2Mjtspers in tlje $alms< 



HYMNS AND MEDITATIONS 



ANNA SHTPTON. 

AUTHOR OF 

' The Brook in the Way;'" " Tell Jesus: Recollections of Emily Gosse; ' 
" Saved Now;" ~" Christine;" &"c, &c. 




'i SAT DOWN UNDER HIS SHADOW WITH GREAT DELIGHT, AND HIS 

FRUIT WAS SWEET TO MY TASTE," 

Sol. Song ii. 3. 



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PREFACE 

TO THE THIRD EDITION. 



" There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of 
them is without signification." — i Cor. xiv. 10. 




IjHERE is an eastern tradition of the Palm 
Tree, that when its leaves quiver in the wind, 
they whisper the holy name of Jesus, which 
the listener never hears but once. Among the goodly 
branches borne by a rejoicing multitude, and strewn 
at the feet of the Lord, once rose the glad welcome 
whose echoes still vibrate in every believer's heart, 
"Hosanna ! blessed is the King of Israel!" Amid the 
waving palms of the redeemed host, who " came out 
of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and 
made them white in the blood of the Lamb," will for 
ever ascend, "Salvation to our God which sitteth 
upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb." Distinct as 



2799 



vi Preface. 

though heaven resounded with no triumphant song, 
as though angelic choirs were silent, are heard the 
faint cry of the afflicted, the plaint of the sin- 
wounded, the broken hymn of praise. Sweet sound 
these minor harmonies to the ever -listening ear of 
Him who gave the Lamb to be slain, for each whis- 
per is winged with "the Name which is above all 
other," even the holy name of Jesus. 

There is, however, a secret contained in this chosen 
emblem, which is the source and power of the 
believer's spiritual life. The Holy Ghost teaches it, 
without exception, to all who receive the kingdom of 
God as a little child. 

The palm is not taken up for the first time before 
the throne of God and the Lamb. We triumph 
already in the battles fought for us. Victory is won ; 
victory over sin and death, victory over the world 
and Satan. In faith let us go forth with songs of 
praise to gather the spoil, even as the army of Jehos- 
haphat (2 Chron. xx. 21, 22.) 

Wave this palm, O trembling believer. Behold 
your sins for ever taken away by the sacrifice of the 
cross, and liberty from their dominion secured by 
the adorable ransom ! Follow, then, a conquering 
Saviour ! reap the fruit of His triumph ! and by that 



Preface. vii 

act of faith you shall recognize, not once, but for 
ever, the secret enfolded in the precious Name it 
whispers. 

In the realized light of that glory sin shall lose its 
power, and sorrow be robbed of its bitterness. Every 
billow that breaks upon your homeward way shall 
bear a message of everlasting love from Him in 
whose presence is fulness of joy, and at whose right 
hand there are pleasures for evermore. 

He who bade us bear each other's burdens blesses 
the weakest things, and things which are despised, to 
His service. May He prosper this feeble ministration, 
by waking an echo in some sorrowful heart at the 
feet of Jesus, that shall swell the glad song before 
the throne, in praise and glory to the Triune God, 
the Great Jehovah ! 

A. S. 

London, October, 1865. 



INDEX. 



Are the pearly portals open ? 

Arouse thee, laggard Soul — awake — awake ! 

As for the pleasant water brooks . 

As late I paused, in mournful musing, o'er 

"As thy day thy strength shall be" 

A thousand voices rise on high 

Be still, be still. Oh ! hush the woe 

Captive by Babylon's bright streams 

Christ hath said He will receive me 

Christ the Lord hath risen 

Christ, who the mourner's plea 

Closed is the lattice, Lord; joy enters not 

Come thou into the sunlight, child 

Dark my shadowed path below 

Down in the pleasant pastures 

Enlighten my dark mind to read aright 

Fair is our Zion's promised land . 

Farewell, friend, till the shadows flee away 

Far from the faithful pilgrim band 

Father, for pleasant paths on earth 

Father, my cup is full ! . 

Father, on yon shadowy shore 



Page 



66 
90 
108 



102 

96 
128 
170 

177 

143 
16 

153 

ICO 

119 
145 

II 

28 
81 

75 
164 
130 



Index. 



Free flows the Fountain : though as scarlet 

Friends frown or fall away 

Gird up thy loins, be shod with peace 

Give smiles to them whose hearts are glad 

God guideth all His children home 

Go forth, though weeping, bearing precious seed 

Hark ! from the cotter's hearth ascends 

Hark ! the innumerable throng 

"Hear Him!" My God, in Thee I rest . 

Hear me, my God ; and if my lip hath dared 

How shall I praise Thee, O my God ? 

I am going, mother, I am going . 

I am going to my home, dear one 

I bow me down at Calvary 

If I look within, O Lord . 

I have been in the wilderness, but it was sweet to 

I mused on the pain and the terror 

In a fair and fenced garden 

In the deep stillness of this silent hour 

It was no wealth thou gavest me . 

I will lift up mine eyes 

I will not fear the shadows o'er me creeping 

Jesus, Master ! hear my cry 

Know'st thou, O soul, that in yon blessed sphere 

Life's fever dream is over : on her breast . 

Lisping voices in the wild wood . 

Lord, I fain would learn Thy will 

Lord, I have wandered from Thy ways 

Lord, I strive to murmur not 

Lord, Thou art my Shepherd 

Lord, though I weep, my voice I raise 

Lord, when the waves of sorrow rage 

"Mind you remember me ! " Each lisping word 

My heart rejoicing in Thy love 



be 



\ 



Index. xi 

Page 
My soul forgets the fetters that she wears . . .7 

Nearer and nearer, day by day, the distant voices come . 79 

Never on my ear thus faintly . . . .104 

No angel, Lord, I wait to see . . . '94 

Not only for the light of loving hearts . . .140 

O anxious, brooding heart ! be still, and learn . . 86 

O dreary world ! O mournful life ! . . .48 

Oh, mockingly to mourner's heart the songs of victory come 71 



Oh, mourn not for me, for I weep no more 

Oh, never say a careless word 

Oh, say not life must ever be a vale of tears and woe 

Oh, tell me no more of the days to come . 

O Lord, I would not choose the way, nor place . 

O loving and beloved, couldst thou not watch ? 

On the shore of the blue Atlantic . 

Open, ye everlasting gates 

O Saviour, hear a little child 

O Soul, that backward turn'st thy gaze 

Perplexed, world-wearied with the strife 

Room for our treasure, closed tomb 

Sad heart, hast thou no joys to number? 

Sow ye beside all waters . 

Say not, "'Twas all in vain" 

Send not Thine angel Death, O my loved Lord 



She left her pitcher at the well, and to her home returned 64 



Shun not the paths where weary hearts 

Sorrow, thou art God's angel ! On thy track 

Speak to me, Lord! Not in the thunder-cloud . 

Spirit of my absent one ! . 

Stretch forth thy hand, O Lord of hosts ! Behold 

Sweetly through the vault of heaven 

Take it meekly, wear it gladly 

Take thy rest in Jesus .... 

The leaves of the chesnut are changing 



135 
125 

70 

109 

53 

13 

117 

19 
149 

59 
76 
44 
175 
4 
54 

104 



29 
90 
92 
I50 
l68 
124 

8 

157 



xii Index. 

Page 

There is a straight and narrow path . . .87 

There's joy in heaven ! Earth, dost thou, too, share ? . 66 

The river floweth onward . . . . • 45 

The trackless desert's burning sand . . -83 

They come, the holy legion . . . .141 

Thou hast no pang of hidden grief . . -3° 

Thou, my friend, that stooped to love me . .112 

'Tis, O Lord, our consolation . . . .72 

'Twas love, abounding love, that won . . .98 

Weeping, we leave our blessed dead . . .161 

"Weep not !" how vain the words ! how sad in sorrow . 37 

What treasures hast Thou, Lord, for them who seek ! .169 

When Jesus first upon my vision stole . . 14 

Where is he ? Where the summer buds are springing . 147 

Where'er I rest mine eyes, O Lord . . .121 

Who are they whose songs are sounding ? . .163 

Why weep'st thou, daughter, in the dust ? . . 145 

With each soul, upon its birth . . . .129 

Work in me, Lord ! I would labour . . .99 




WHISPERS IN THE PALMS. 



THE PALM BEARERS. 

'' I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all 
nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and 
before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands.'' 



Rev. 



IJARK ! the innumerable throng, 

Saved from earth's remotest bounds, 
Sing their everlasting song : 

Through the golden gate it sounds. 
Christ hath loved them, every one ; 

He hath led them by the hand : 
Souls redeemed, before the throne 

Now with palms behold them stand. 

Hark ! the voices sweetly rise; 

Like the angel's rushing wing, 
As it cleaves its native skies, 

Joyful tidings home to bring. 



' We the toil and burden bore, 
But the noontide heat is done ; 
Earthly warfare now is o'er, 
And our happy rest is won. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 

Lamb of God ! Thy temple's dower 

Is the light that fadeth never: 
Glory, might, salvation, power, 

Be unto our God for ever." 

Hark ! 'tis a breath among the palms, low surging deep, 
Falling in tender minors, now once more 

Blending in heavenly harmonies, as creep 
The rippling wavelets on the shelving shore. 

Joy amid the angel throng ! 
Heaven is thrilled by her sweet song, 
Who had sought her Lord to greet, 
Washed with tears her Saviour's feet ; 
At His presence bowing down, 
Heedless all of Simon's frown; 
Suffering, weeping, mourning, shriven, — ■ 
Much she loved, was much forgiven. 

Holier, purer far was she, 

Much forgiven, loving much, 
Than the righteous Pharisee, 

Shrinking from her tainted touch : 
Precious is the Lamb once slain, 
To the sinful Magdalen. 
See ! her palm is raised on high : 
Sweet her song : " Oh, Victory ! 
Victory through the Lamb of God, 

The Lamb for sinners slain ! 
He redeemed my soul by blood, 

And washed from every stain. " 

And now a deeper note from myriad voices swells ; 

Loud peals the joyful praise, and as the echoes fall, 
One name, one blissful word, a tale of mercy tells, 

Of Saul of Tarsus, persecuting Saul ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 

'Tis the servant faithful proved ; 

Lo ! the cross he layetb down 
At the Master's feet beloved, 

And from Him receives the crown. 
Many a wanderer draweth near; 

He hath warned them far and wide, 
Wiped the weeping sinner's tear, 

Preached to men the Crucified. 
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord ! 

Thou Thy flock hast guided home ; 
Thou by ransomed hosts adored, 

Who wast, and art, and art to come. 
Blessing, glory, and thanksgiving, 

Wisdom, honour, power, might, 
To the Son, the ever living ! 

To the Lamb, the temple's light ! " 

An infant voice ascends, as a palm is raised on high, 
Like the nightingale's soft strain, at evening heard, 

Brimful of love and heavenly melody, 
But bearing on its breath one holy word. 

"Jesus !" 'tis a whisper soft, 

From a little tender child ; 
Yet that echo soars aloft, 

For on Jesu's face he smiled. 
Fearless soul ! he soars above, 

Breathing but that holy name ; 
Sweet 'mid seraphs' songs of love, 

This clear lisping cadence came : 
" On yon dark sphere's rolling sea, 
Summers four have passed o'er me ; 
Jesus ! suffer me to come, 
Thou in love hast called me home. 
B 2 



Whispers in the Pah?is. 

Fond arms would have held me there, 
All the cares of life to share ; 
Thou wert wiser, kinder. Lo ! 
I am come Thy love to know. 
Childhood's days in heaven shall be, 
And Thy child shall learn of Thee.' 1 
Praise ! Glory ! to the Lamb ! 

To Him our songs shall rise : 
He was the first — He is the last — 

He makes our Paradise. 



THE DAY LABOURER. 

" In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine 
hand : for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or 
whether they both shall be alike good." — Ecc. xi. 6. 

JOW ye beside all waters, 

Where the dew of heaven may fall ; 
Ye shall reap, if ye be not weary ; 

For the Spirit breathes o'er all. 
Sow, though the thorns may wound thee ; 

One wore the thorns for thee ; 
And, though the cold world scorn thee, 

Patient and hopeful be. 
Sow ye beside all waters, 

With a blessing and a prayer; 
Name Him whose hand upholds thee, 

And sow thou every where. 

Sow when the sunlight sheddeth 

Its warm and cheering ray ; 
For the rain of heaven descendeth 

When the sunbeams pass away. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Sow when the tempest lowers ; 

For calmer days will break, 
And the seed, in darkness nourished, 

A goodly plant will make. 
Sow when the morning breaketh 

In beauty o'er the land ; 
And, when the evening falleth, 

Withhold not thou thine hand. 

Sow, though the rock repel thee, 

In its cold and sterile pride, 
Some cleft may there be riven, 

Where the little seed may hide. 
Fear not ; for some will flourish ; 

And, though the tares abound, 
Like the willows by the waters 

Will the scattered grain be found. 
Work while the daylight lasteth, 

Ere the shades of night come on ; 
Ere the Lord of the vineyard cometh, 

And the labourer's work is done. 

Work in the wild waste places, 

Though none thy love may own ; 
God marks the down of the thistle 

The wandering wind hath sown. 
Will Jesus chide thy weakness, 

Or call thy labour vain ? 
The Word that for Him thou bearest 

Shall return to Him again. 
On! with thy heart in Heaven, 

Thy strength — thy Master's might, 
Till the wild waste places blossom 

In the warmth of a Saviour's light. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Sow by the wayside gladly, 

In the damp dark caverns low, 
Where sunlight never reacheth, 

Nor healthful streamlets flow ; 
Where the withering air of poison 

Is the young bud's earliest breath, 
And the wild unwholesome blossom 

Bears in its beauty — death. 
The ground impure, o'ertrodden 

By life's disfiguring years, 
Though blood and guilt have stained it, 

May yet be soft from tears. 

Watch not the clouds above thee ; 

Let the whirlwind round thee sweep ; 
God may the seed-time give thee, 

But another's hand may reap. 
Have faith, though ne'er beholding 

The seed burst from its tomb, 
Thou know'st not which may prosper, 

Or whether all shall bloom. 
Room on the narrowest ridges 

The ripening grain will find, 
That the Lord of the harvest coming," 

In the harvest sheaves may bind. 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE PRISONER. 

"Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at 
5t. Lo, then would I wander far off. and remain in the wilderness." 

Psalm Iv. 6, 7. 

I Y soul forgets the fetters that she wears, 
And upward soars and sings : 
Like captive bird, fast tethered to the stake, 

Soon droop her weary wings. 
The blue sky, in the summer sunshine, seems 

Each moment yet more near ; 
Till now the cord recalls the bird to earth, 

And dumb he falleth here. 
Ay, dumb he lies ! but deep within his heart 

Still rests his half- sung hymn, 
To swell in rapturous tones of love and joy, 

When freedom comes to him. 

So garner up, O Soul ! each glimpse of home, 

Vouchsafed by heavenly love : 
Soon shall the silver cord be loosed, and thou 

Shalt wing thy way above. 
Though solitude and darkness now be thine, 

Yet count on cloudless days, 
When thy glad voice shall break the silence deep, 

With hymns of glorious praise. 
In yon far home, where thy free song shall rise, 

The Spoiler entereth not; 
There summer days alone remembered are, 

And sin and tears forgot. 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE CROWN OF THORNS. 

"Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with the baptism that 
I am baptized with." — Matt. xx. 23. 

" Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on Him, 
but also to suffer for His sake." — Phil. i. 29. 

|AKE it meekly, wear it gladly, 

Holy ensign of our faith! 

Doth the exile wander sadly, 

Freed from danger, and from death ? 
As his footstep homeward turns, 
Little recks he of the thorns. 

Sing then loudly, ransomed spirit, 
Let the captives hear thee sing; 
Thou the Promise shalt inherit, 
Wandering child of Israel's King. 

Think of Him : then, bending down, 
Take thy cross, and wear thy crown. 

Thou art lonely — He was lonely ; 

Dost thou at thy lot repine ? 
Thou thy burden bearest only ; 

But He bore His grief — and thine. 

Yea, for thee that crown was worn, 
'Twas thy sin that wove the thorn. 

Priestly pomp, and princely splendour, 

Greet not Him who came to save. 
Doth the earth her tribute render? 
All she gives Him is a grave : 

Gold nor gem His brow adorns, 
Nothing but a Crown of Thorns. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Hands outstretched, the sinner seeking, 

Eyes that wept o'er human woe, 
Lips but love and pity speaking, 
Mark the path He trod below. 

While His love the alien scorns, 

Child, bless thou the Crown of Thorns ! 

Track His footsteps, thou shalt borrow 

Light, that loneliest life endears ; 
Glory gilds the crown of sorrow, 

Washed with blood, and bright with tears. 
Not unseen His loved ones mourn, 
Known to Christ is every thorn. 

Dost thou murmur ? dost thou wonder 
Why this path He bade thee tread ? 
He who reigns in glory yonder 
Had not where to lay His head. 

Though thy pathway seemeth dim, 
Yet it leads to heaven — and Him. 

Sinful soul ! with cords I bound Him, 

Till upon the cross He died; 
With the thorny chaplet crowned Him, 
And that crown He sanctified. 

Welcome, then, the crown of shame, 
Which for me on Jesus came. 

Is it meet a homeless stranger 

Rest within that world should gain, 
Free from sorrow, free from danger, 
Where his Lord and King was slain ? 
Christian pilgrim, be content 
With the desert and the tent. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Take thy crown, for Christ hath blessed it : 

If thy weary heart should fail, 
On the Rock of Ages rest it ; 
Gates of hell shall not prevail. 

Shrink not, though the world may scorn, 
Christ hath numbered every thorn. 

Take it gladly, crown of glory; 

Angels, with admiring eyes, 
Read redemption's wondrous story : 
Now the conflict^ — then the prize. 

Follow Him, whose bleeding brow 
Gave thee right to wear it now. 

Every tear the Saviour numbered, 
Every woe hath Jesus weighed, 
Nor His love or care hath slumbered 
Since He placed it on thy head, 
Soul, by tribulation driven, 
Child of God, and heir of heaven. 

O my soul ! do thou surrender 
Sorrow's chaplet to His care, 
For I know His love so tender : 
Not one thorn too much is there. 

Let each wound a whisper be, 
"Take thy cross and follow Me." 

Lamb of God, and Man of Sorrow, 

Shed Thy Holy Spirit down ; 
For the night must have its morrow, 
And the thorns are still a crown. 
If reserved for only Thine, 
Let the thorny crown be mine. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Lo, I take it ! On my weakness 

Look Thou, Lord, in pity down ; 
Let me learn Thy holy meekness, 
Fit me here to wear the crown. 

Thou wilt leave me not forlorn, 
Myrtles shall supplant the thorn. 

When it presses me the sorest, 

When the bitter cup I sip, 
Let me feel the crown Thou worest 
Gives the sweetest fellowship : 
Diademed with rubies rare, 
Precious blood-drops sparkling there. 

Teach me, Lord, the hands that wove it 

Wove it not without Thy will ; 
Bless it, Lord, and I shall love it : 
Through the thorns I see Thee still. 
Thou in grief art ever nigh ; 
I will wear it patiently. 



THE PROMISED LAND. 

" The Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Send thou men, that they may search 
the land of Canaan, which I give unto the children of Israel." — Num. xiii. i. 

"Their inward thought is, that their houses shall continue for ever, and 
their dwelling-places to all generations : they call their lands after their own 
names."— Psalm xlix. n. 

pAIR is our Zion's Promised Land, 
And gloriously her mansions shine : 
Art thou of Israel's wandering band ? • 
Then all that land of light is thine. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

On yonder steep hangs high thy crown, 
There — where the new song now is sung ! 

And He who cast the angels down, 
Holdeth for thee a harp new strung. 

Then place thy foot upon the Rock, 
Thy hand upon the Promise stay ; 

Fear thou no more the tempest's shock, 
For none shall rend thy foot away. 

Oh, mount up on Faith's radiant wings ! 

Press on, the Promised Land to view ! 
Leave thou on earth thy tear-stained strings, 

And join the song for ever new. 

No more thy hands supinely fold, 

For ransomed souls the way have trod ; 

Soar up where Jesus led ! Behold 
The glorious city of our God ! 

Why dost thou closer clasp thy chains, 
And earth's dark chambers still explore, 

When stretched beyond lie Eshcol's plains, 
And Faith can waft thee to the shore ? 

Prophets and kings desired to look 
Upon the glories thou mayst share, 

And earth's poor fleeting joys forsook, 
To watch for Him who reigneth there. 

Men love the home that bears their name, 
Join field to field, and mark them well ; 

And many a thought those chambers claim, 
Where they and all their loved ones dwell. 



Whispers in the Palms. 13 

Of distant shore when strangers speak, 

Of balmy airs and spicy bowers, 
That cloudless land they long to seek ; 

Yet — is that clime so fair as ours ? 



Home in the land that is our own, 
So fair, so fadeless, and so nigh, 

Where tears and night are never known, 
Wins not from them one wandering sigh. 

O homeless ones and weary, turn ! 

Let Zion's hope your thoughts engage : 
Oh that your loveless hearts might burn 

To share our blood-bought heritage ! 



THE WEARY WATCHER. 

' What! could ye not watch with me one hour?"- — Matt. xxvi. . 

LOVING and beloved, couldst thou not watch 
One hour with Him who watched so oft for thee ; 
Some deeper meaning from His grief to catch, 

And weep with Him in drear Gethsemane ? 
" Could ye not watch ?" O Jesus ! no reproof 

Ruffled Thy holy pleading with Thine own, 
Thy chosen friends; and yet they stand aloof — 

No heart to share Thine agonizing groan ! 
I weary too, wdiile watching, Lord, with Thee ; 

How swift am I to slumber at Thy side : 
End quickly, Lord, my sad captivity, 

That I, at thy loved feet, my shame may hide. 



14 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE RECOGNITION. 

" Their eyes were opened, and they knew Him." — Luke xxiv. 31. 

9 HEN Jesus first upon my vision stole, 
His love reproved my unbelieving soul: 
Terror and joy within my bosom stirred; 
Revealed to faith — I grasped the Incarnate Word, 

My God ! My Lord ! 

Closed was each portal to the world around — 
Sin's shadow dark — yet He an entrance found; 
Soft as the dawn, clear as morn's golden flood, 
Thy light disclosed the token of the Blood, 

My Lord ! My God ! 

Thus sweetly spake He: "Child! reach forth thine hand, 
And be not faithless, but believe." The band 
Of sin was loosed. "Peace!" It was all I heard; 
By tender mercy conquered, I adored 

My God ! My Lord ! 

His goodness fills my very soul with praise; 
No other sound can prayer's faint pinions raise; 
Her glad thanksgivings seek no sweeter chord, 
My heart pours out her joy in one blest word, — 

My God ! My Lord ! 

Reject it not ! O Thou, the Crucified ! 
Thou hast for me, so lost and faithless, died; 
Thou who with peace my way-worn feet hast shod, 
Oh, guide me in the path that Thou Thyself hast trod, 
My Lord ! My God ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 15 



PRAISE. 

" Bless the Lord, all His works in all places of His dominion : bless the 
Lord, O my soul." — Psalm ciii. 22. 

"Praise our God, all ye His servants." — Rev. xix. 5. 

|OW shall I praise Thee, O my God ? 
How to Thy throne draw nigh ? 
I, in the dust — and Thou, arrayed 
In might and majesty ! 

Praise Him, ye gladdening smiles of morn ; 

Praise Him, O silent night ; 
Tell forth His glory, all the earth ; 

Praise Him, ye stars of light ! 

Praise Him, ye stormy winds, that rise 

Obedient to His word ; 
Mountains, and hills, and fruitful trees, 

Join ye and praise the Lord ! 

Praise Him, ye heavenly host ; for ye, 

.With purer lips, can sing — 
Glory and honour, praise and power, 

To Him, the Eternal King ! 

Praise Him, ye martyrs ! he your names 

Illustrious or unknown ; 
Whose path is tracked by tears and blood, 

Who now surround the throne. 



1 6 Whispers in the Palms. 

Praise Him, ye saints ! who here rejoiced 

To do His heavenly will ; 
The incense of whose prayers ascends 

Upon His altar still. 

Praise Him, ye angels ! who excel 
In strength ; and, listening to 

His voice of love, with lightning speed 
His blest commandments do. 

Oh ! not for angels, Lord, didst Thou 
That heavenly throne forsake ; 

Not for their cause, in earth's dark womb, 
Didst Thou Thy dwelling make : 

But that our fallen souls should live, 
While gazing on the Slain, 

And in the blood our sins have shed 
Be washed from sin again. 

Praise Him, all works of His that own 

His Spirit's blest control ! 
O Lord my God, how great art Thou ! 

Bless thou the Lord, my soul ! 



THE CURTAINED CHAMBER. 

'Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick." — John \-i. 3. 

I'LOSED is the lattice, Lord; joy enters not, 
And hope hath nigh departed : here we weep, 
And watch, and marvel if Thou hast forgot 
Where we our long and lonely vigil keep. 



Whispers in the Palms. i 

Our loved one, whom Thou lovest, is sick. Oh, come, 

Thou tender Jesus, Thou our grief wilt share ! 
In sweet compassion visit our sad home, 

And leave some token of Thy presence there. 
Wilt Thou not speak the word, to bid him live, 

And gently raise him from this couch of pain ? 
The life Thou gavest, a second time, oh, give 

To bless our hearts again — and yet again. 



Yet, Lord, not for our prayers, not for our tears, 

Stay Thou Thy hand; Thou seest not as we, 
If, bidding us resign the hope of years, 

Thou call our loved one gently home to Thee. 
The cup is bitter, Lord ; and yet within 

We know is Mercy. Can we fathom why 
That draught was given ? Sorrows, snares, and sin. 

Hidden from us, lie open to Thine eye. 
In very love, methinks I hear Thee say, 

"Taste of My cup; for thee its dregs were drained, 
Though gall was mingled there. Nay, trembler, nay, 

Fear not : the wine alone for thee remained. " 

O Angel of the Covenant ! through the vail 

Rent in Thy Holy Manhood enter we ; 
And not one promise of Thy word shall fail ; 

For where Thou art, there shall Thy loved ones be. 
Stay not Thy summons, then, if here unseen 

Thy angel-watchers wait to bear him hence ; 
The sepulchre — our grief — Lord, stand between, 

And point us to his fair inheritance. 
We meekly trust our loved one to Thy care, 

In cheerful faith — the faith that Thou hast given — 
Thankful if still our earthly path he share, 

Blessed if he rise to reign with Thee in heaven. 
c 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE DREAM OF HEAVEN. 

' I sleep, but my heart waketh. It is the voice of my Beloved.' 1 
Sol. Song v. 2. 

I RE the pearly portals open, 

I have yearned to enter long ? 
Is my dream of sorrow broken, 
By a seraph's joyful song? 

Have I crossed the crystal river ? 

Shall I tread the golden street, 
Where the verdant palm-leaves quiver, 

To one holy Name and sweet ? 

Why, my soul, this exultation ? 

Hast thou passed remotest space ? 
Heard the anthems of salvation ? 

Seen my Saviour face to face ? 

Scarce I knew if sweetly o'er me 
Heaven had opened bright and fair, 

Till I missed the looked-for glory 
Of my Saviour's welcome there. 

Where is He my Life hath proved 

True and faithful to the last ? 
Where is He, my soul's Beloved, 

He on whom my hope is cast ? 

'Twas a dream. The crystal river 
Came of tear-drops in mine eye ; 

Tears which shall not flow for ever. 
He who wept at Bethany 



Whispers in the Palms. 19 

Shed such solace o'er my sorrow, 

Earth's afflictions were forgot, 
And I hailed a joyful morrow, 

Dawning on my weary lot. 

Now, my heart within me burning, 

Better than my dream I see ; 
Christ is near me in my mourning ; 

Where He is, is heaven to me. 



THE OLIVE TREE. 

" 1 am a Father to Israel, and Ephraira is my firstborn." — Jer. xxxi. 9. 

" If thou wert cut out of the olive tree which is wild by nature, and wert 

graffed contrary to nature into a good olive tree ; how much more shall 

these, which be the natural branches, be graffed into their own olive tree." 

Rom. xi. 24. 
fjPEN, ye everlasting gates, 

To souls redeemed from death and sin ; 
For He, the King of Glory, waits 
To let His wandering people in. 
Oh, tarry not, thou chosen race : 

His blood hath washed away thy shame ; 
And thou shalt see Messiah's face, 
And own that once despised Name. 
Arise ! His Advent draweth nigh ; 

Oh, tune thy harp's long broken chords : 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 

The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 

O Ephraim beloved ! for thee 

Still must we wait, and watch, and pray; 

And can thy heart unmoved be, 
Or turn from such a love away ? 



Whispers in the Palms. 

In all thy grief — to Him how dear ! 

Now, now thy Christ and Saviour know : 
He wept for thee, when not a tear 
But His fell o'er thy coming woe. 
Arise ! His Advent draweth nigh ; 

Oh, tune thy harp's long silent chords : 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 

The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 

Return, O Israel, return: 

The Wounded waiteth not to chide ; 
And ye, who for your blindness mourn, 

Upon His breast your sorrows hide. 
Why will ye die, ye wandering ones ? 

Why linger ? 'Twas for you He came. 
Had we been dumb, the very stones 
Had sounded forth Messiah's name. 
Arise ! His Advent draweth nigh ; 

Oh, tune thy sad harp's silent chords : 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 
The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 

Raise the palm-branches from the ground, 

Strewn for His lowly feet of old, 
And share with them the holy sound 

Shrined in their leaves' most sacred fold. 
Then loving hearts that listen well 

Shall own the Name that we adore : 
Once breathed within the soul's deep cell, 
It echoes on for evermore. 

Arise ! for Jesus draweth nigh ; 

Awake ! and tune thy sad harp's chords : 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 

The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 

He comes ! No wise men from afar 

Proclaim Him nigh : He comes not thus. 
Where they beheld a glimmering star 

Shines forth the Sun of Righteousness. 
He comes ! Imagination paints 
The glory of that day in vain. 
He comes : with myriads of His saints 
Thou shalt behold thy King again. 
Arise ! His Advent draweth nigh : 

Oh, tune thy sad harp's broken chords : 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 

The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 

Gaze not on them with eyes of scorn, 

Oh ye whose lot may brighter be ; 

If God the parent stem hath torn, 

Fear lest He also spare not thee. 

The golden bridge of Mercy spanned 

The gulf for both — the Wayjj/^ know, 
O Israel ! Raise the suppliant's hand, 
And say, " I will arise and go." 

" Return ! return ! why will ye die?" 

Ponder Messiah's gracious words. 
Hosanna to the Lord most High ! 
The King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 



JESUS ONLY. 

"A cloud overshadowed them ; and a voice came out of the cloud, saying, 
This is my beloved Son : hear Him." — Mark ix. 7. 

JEAR HIM !" My God, in Thee I rest; 
None other peace to me can yield : 
Thy Spirit only in my breast 

Thy tabernacle, Lord, shall build ; 
Unmingled glory from Thee shone, 
Lord, make me Thine, and Thine alone. 

' Hear Him !" Oh, teach me, Lord, to live 

In child -like spirit at Thy feet; 
For Thou the hearing ear canst give, 

And waiting hours with Thee are sweet : 
Oh, grant to me the humble faith, 
That fears not man, and shuns not death. 

' Hear Him ! " 'Tis Thou, Lord, only Thou 
Prepar'st the heart to hear Thy word ; 

My spirit listeneth for Thee now, 

For Thou its inmost depths hast stirred : 

Teach me to walk in sonship free ; 

I ask not Thine, O Lord, but Thee. 

' Hear Him ! " I hunger for Thy grace, 
I wait till Thou Thy child shalt bless ; 

Help me to seek Thy glorious face, 
And walk with Thee in holiness : 

Speed to my help ; for I can be 

Content alone in hearing Thee ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 23 

' Hear Him ! " My soul her harp hath hung 
Upon the willows ; and I weep, 
Wailing my sad captivity, 

Till Thou shalt break its mournful sleep : 
Oh, let Thy voice my spirit reach, 
And hidden strains of wisdom teach. 

' Hear Him ! " Ah ! once I thought I heard, 
And tuned my harp to stamm'ring strain, 

Thy praises thrilled each trembling chord — 
Thy smile can wake my song again ; 

Now silent lies that harp of mine ; 

Thy hand can tune it — only Thine. 

6 Hear Him ! " Thy voice Thou know'st is sweet 

As none on earth can sound to me ; 
Oh, let me live, Lord, at Thy feet, 

Content a listening child to be, 
Until, by Thy redeeming grace, 
I shall behold Thee face to face ! 



THE VOICE OF THE LILY. 

" Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to Thy voice : 
cause me to hear it." — Sol. Song viii. 13. 

"I will be as the dew unto Israel; he shall grow as the lily." 

HosEAxiv. 5. 
[§§fg||JHE leaves of the chesnut are changing, 
|gU|g And, down on the old terrace plot, 

The Stock and the last bright Carnation 
Bloom now, where the Lilies are not. 

brother ! I love so the Lilies : 

I know, when they blossom again, 

1 shall watch them no more in the garden, 

Nor lie on this pillow of pain. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

So fair seems the flowery sceptre, 

And meet for an angel to hold ; 
Pure white as the folds of its raiment, 

And coronal gleaming with gold. 

Yet the flowers they gather are fadeless, 
Unlike those I cherished to-day : 

I welcomed their coolness with kisses, 
And see, they have withered away ! 

But the angels will gather the Lilies 

My Saviour considers below ; 
They will bloom in His heavenly garden, 

With a beauty that earth cannot know : 

In the land of the Lamb they will flourish, 
By the breath of the Spirit caress'd ; 

And He who hath called me, and loved me, 
Will shelter me safe in His breast. 

Time was, when I wept through the midnight 

Again with our mother to be, 
To sing the sweet hymns that she taught us, 

And pray as I prayed at her knee. 

And I longed so for Dora, and Father, 
And sighed on his bosom to fall ; 

But now it is Jesus I long for, 

My Saviour, more precious than all ! 

Last summer I sat in the garden ; 

I never thought flowers so fair, 
As the first bursting buds of the Lilies, 

While I mused on the sunny slope there. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

iVnd the bees seemed to love them as dearly ; 

For o'er them in rapture they hung, 
And clearly each ivory palace 

Re-echoed the matins they sung. 

My eyes drank delight from their beauty ; 

For the dew hung like pearls on each stem : 
Like the Lilies, I toiled not, I spun not — 

God cared both for me and for them. 

They told of the lake of Gennesaret, 
Of the fields around Galilee's sea, 

Of holy eyes gazing upon them, 
That still looked in love upon me. 

Each brought me some message from Jesus, 
And I whispered it back to my Lord : 

He knoweth my fears and my sorrows, 
He heareth my every word. 

I am safe in the fold of the Shepherd, 

Though His hand doth not rest on my head ; 

For His own little lambs He hath suffered, 
For His own little band He hath bled. 

While I sat still and prayed, by the dial, 

A footstep fell soft on my ear ; 
'Twas the good man who pitied us, Charley, 

When God took our Dora last year. 

He came when our grief was the sorest, 
He prayed when my own heart was dumb ; 

Oh, tell him, in yon glorious city, 

My glad voice shall welcome him home. 



• 



26 Whispers in the Palms. 

His stifled sobs burst as he passed me, 

While I sat there, silent as stone ; 
And each word to my heart seemed so tender, 

I remember them every one. 

" He who seeks the Lord early shall find Him;" 
Then grief choked his voice, though he smiled ; 

" God, who loves them who love Him, hath called her; 
She will fade with the flowers, poor child." 

Ah ! I heard how he wept, brother Charley, 

For this poor little sister of thine ; 
And I prayed on his life might break sweetly 

The sunshine he scattered on mine. 

His slow steps were lost in the distance, 

Then fell I down there on the sod, 
And the Lilies seemed breathing above me, 

" O child, thou art going to God :" 

But they said not, ' ' Poor child, " the dear Lilies. 

Then I saw in the noon sunlight stand 
A form like myself, but far fairer, 

With a Lily fresh plucked in her hand. 

She raised it, and pointed to heaven ; 

While a voice to my soul whispered, " Come ;" 
But I lay there, and wept for you, Charley ; 

For I knew they were calling me home. 

Then soft on my soul broke the summons ; 

The Shepherd was calling for me : 
He died for my sins, and I loved Him, 

And with Him my dwelling shall be. 



Whispers in the Palms. 27 

Now I looked up to God, as if living 

Alone 'neath that bright summer sky : 
I forgot I must leave thee, my brother; 

For it seemed, oh, so solemn to die ! 

Since then I have knelt in the sunshine, 

And prayed in the midnight alone ; 
And midnight seems bright as the sunlight, 

When the smiles of my Saviour have shone. 

When you grow to a man, brother Charley, 

Remember this garden of ours, 
And listen sometimes in the twilight 

For whispers that come from the flowers. 

The Lord hath a song for His children : 

When prayer tunes the heart's silent strings, 

They will vibrate to praise as though angels 
Swept over the chords with their wings. 

'Tis a hard world, and cold, where we wander ; 

Dark the ground whence the fair Lilies spring ; 
Yet behold them arrayed in their beauty, 

More glorious than Israel's King. 

In our dark world still Lilies are growing, 

Holy words float in love to the ear ; 
Words, whisp'ring of peace and of heaven, 

Reminding us Jesus is near. 

Oh, remember Him, ever remember, 

And His Spirit within thee will be ; 
Oh, seek thou but God and His glory, 

And thy God will do battle for thee. 



J* 



28 Whispers in the Palms. 

How fast thy hot tears, love, are falling ; 

I kiss them up like the poor flowers ; 
Not a tear from mine eyelids hath started, 

Through this last solemn parting of ours. 

God dried them that sweet Sabbath morning, 
When His angel smiled soft in my face ; 

And I go, yes, I go to that kingdom 
Where partings and tears have no place. 

The autumn- day fades from the casement, 
The dawn of a brighter I see ; 

The Lilies are gone from the garden, 
And my Shepherd is waiting for me. 



THE LAST NIGHT WITH THE DEAD. 

"Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again." 
John xi. 23. 

I AREWELL, friend, till the shadows flee away ! 
[ Farewell, my loved one : it is sweet to say, 
'Till our next meeting;" there no pain can come, 
Nor partings dim the glory of our home. 
We '11 meet again — where God's redeemed ones dwell, 
Where never more shall sound the word, " Farewell." 
O joyful hope ! for then I shall have gazed 
On my Incarnate Lord ; I shall have raised 
To Him these heavy eyes, tearful no more, 
And faith be lost in sight. My grief is o'er. 
Farewell till our next meeting ; it will be 
Where Christ, not Death, shall veil thy face from me. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 29 



PARTING WORDS. 

" Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to 
them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not." — Isaiah xxxv. 3, 4. 
" The Lord that made heaven and earth bless thee out of Zion." 

Psalm cxxxiv. 3. 

jjHUN not the paths where weary hearts are bowed in 
sadness down ; 

Although no word of faith replies responsive to thine own, 
Still whisper of thy Saviour's love : speak tenderly ; ere long 
The silent heart may hear thy voice, and echo with a song. 

Not the glad song of hope and youth, the song of careless mirth ; 
Not the blithe carol of delight that cheers the smiling earth ; 
But a low floating hymn of praise that long hath slumbering lain, 
Yet, wakened by thy kindly hands, may rise to heaven again. 

Shrink not ! Thy path may oft-times lie o'er many a mountain 

rude ; 
Through valleys deep, in starless nights, and days of solitude ; 
But God will set His seal upon each earnest prayer of thine, 
And o'er thy steep and rugged road a guiding light will shine. 

For starless nights, thou well canst own, bravest resolves have 

stirred ; 
In hours of deepest solitude the Spirit's voice is heard. 
Though toilsome seem the mountain way, fear not ! the weak 

have striven, 
And Pisgah's height, though clad in clouds, hath clearer views 

of heaven. 



30 Whispers in the Palms. 

Be patient. Not for Jesu's flock is kept the flowery ground ; 
He leads through many a lonely path where thorns and briers 

abound. 
Bravely crush down each meaner hope that on thy path may 

spring, 
Let to thy heart thy mission be a glad and glorious thing. 

The prayer thy lip hath prompted once, the tear thy care hath 

dried, 
The sin-stained soul thy comfort cheered when earth all hope 

denied, 
Shall rise on high, on seraph wings, to God's all-listening ear, 
And through eternity resound in echoes sweet and clear. 

God guard thee ! Falter not nor pause, till life's last conflict 's o'er ; 
We met, and we have parted now, to meet on earth no more. 
Betwixt a blessing and farewell, when sad hearts claim thy prayer, 
I ask of thee, O pilgrim friend, one passing memory there. 



THE MOURNING SOUL. 

" Turn Thee unto me, and have mercy upon me : for I am desolate and 
afflicted." — Psalm xxv. 16. 

" He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted to comfort all 

that mourn." — Isaiah Ixi. i, 2. 

|HOU hast no pang of hidden grief 

More than thy Lord doth know ; 
He saw the tears rise in thine eye, 

He counts them as they flow; 
He heard the voice whose careless tone 

Hath stricken thee with pain. 
Look up ! the wounds that others give 

His love doth heal again. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 31 

Be not cast down, O trembling soul ! 

The Lord Himself is nigh : 
Think on Gethsemane's dark shades, 

And His lone agony ; 
The friend that on His bosom leaned 

Forsook Him in His woe : 
Thou hast no sorrow, mourning one, 

More than thy Lord doth know. 

He felt the traitor's faithless kiss, 

The scoffer's sneer He heard ; 
Yet patiently He looked to heaven, 

And answered not a word. 
Then why, O soul, art thou cast down ? 

Why mourning dost thou go ? 
He that would seek a heavenly crown 

Must bear the cross below. 

How they reviled the sinless One, 

And bent the mocking knee ! 
And wouldst thou have the cruel world 

More gentle now with thee ? 
How was He scorned, who came to save, 

"Who bore His Cross alone ! 
Look up ! for Christ is watching thee, 

And He thy grief hath known. 

O mourning soul, thou hast one Friend 

That changes not to thee, 
Whose tender smiles of love can bid 

Those earth-born shadows flee. 
Look up ! the King of heaven will dry 

Thy tear - drops as they flow ; 
Lean thou upon the breast of Him 

Who all thy grief doth know. 



32 Whispers i?i the Palms. 



PATHWAYS. 

" What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." 

John xiii. 7. 
" The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and 
delivereth them." — Psalm xxxiv. 7. 

jflOD guideth all His children home, 

By paths we know not here ; 
But once with Him, His ways will be 

To every loved one clear ; 
For wondrous is the Love that leads : 

And Faith at last shall learn 
To tread with humble, child -like heart, 

Nor yet the way discern. 

Beneath the sheltering household roof, 

From childhood's earliest day, 
God placeth some, and to Himself 

He gently leads the way. 
A mother's holy care He gives, 

The infant steps to guide, 
And hymns of praise to God are learnt 

At that dear mother's side. 

Nurtured by parents' anxious prayers 

Along the path they trod, 
From days when first their lips were taught 

To lisp the name of God ; 
As flowers, by tender hands upraised, 

No withering storm might dim, 
New born of God, they learn His love, 

And then return to Him. 



Whispers in the Palms. 33 

But others' lot is cast alone, 

By pitfall and by snare, 
Without one hand of love to warn, 

Or point to danger there. 
Struggling for light, yet falling oft, 

And mourning sore the fall ; 
If these thy sorrows, lonely one, 

The Father knows them all. 

The loveless mock thine ardent soul, 

With cold and scornful mien ; 
But One hath marked thy heart-warm tears, 

Thy cheerless path hath seen. 
Thy stifled cry no echo woke, 

No kindly solace stirred ; 
But high amid the golden harps 

That quivering sob was heard. 

O faithless child ! couldst thou but pierce 

The shrouding veil around, 
And see the radiant hosts of heaven 

Thy thorny path surround ; 
Then wouldst thoii know whose servant thou, 

And in that strife would be 
A joy, to feel thy need had brought 

Thy Saviour nearer thee. 

Look up ! the noontide heat may shed 

Its fervour on thy brow, 
The burden of thy daily toil 

Weigh down thy spirit now ; 
But still about thy path, thy bed, 

God's mighty angels be : 
A conquered foe is he who fights 

Against thy Lord and thee. 



34 Whispers in the Palms. 

And some there are, God rouseth them 

From slumber, at His word ; 
And, ere the Bridegroom come, they wake, 

And rise to meet their Lord. 
He calleth whom He will. He bids 

The tempter's legion flee ; 
And sweet His voice is sounding now, 

"Arise and follow Me." 



MIDNIGHT. 



"In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried unto my God: He 
heard my voice out of His temple, and my cry came before Him, even into 
His ears." — Psalm xviii. 6. 

| N the deep stillness of this silent hour, 

O Christ, thy peace impart ; 
Now, as around the shades of darkness lower, 

Speak to my troubled heart. 
Thy voice alone the doubts of day can banish, 

They own Thy sweet control ; 
And with the midnight of the earth doth vanish 

The midnight of my soul. 

Oh ! let me rise again, with all things rising, 

Glad, grateful for Thy light ; 
Thy precious promises, Thy love more prizing, 

For the deep gloom of night. 
Lighten mine eyes, that so my soul may reckon 

The stars the darkness brings, 
And to a deathless morn the Sun may beckon 

With healing in His wings. 



. 



Whispers in the Palms. 35 



THE FRIEND. 

' Forsake me not, O Lord : O my God, be not far from me." 

Psalm xxxviii. 
" I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." — Heb. xiii. 5. 

IjRIEXDS frown, or fall away, 

Even the nearest ; 
As the night ends the day, 

Death claims the dearest. 
Sin wounds the weary breast, 

Love ties are riven ; 
Vainly we seek for rest 

So far from heaven. 

Hark ! 'tis the voice of One, 

Mourner, that meets thee ; 
Though all thy joy hath flown, 

Fondly it greets thee. 
Sweetly we hear, above 

Harsh words that grieve thee, 
" Mine is unchanging love, 

I will not leave thee. " 

Mourner, thy Lord hath gone 

Forward before thee ; 
Trust Him to lead thee on 

Safely to glory. 
Up ! rouse thee ! help is nigh ! 

Love doth awake thee : 
He who hath heard thy cry 

Will not forsake thee. 

D 2 



36 Whispers in the Palms. 

Through the drear desert land 

What can betide thee, 
With a fond Father's hand 

Gently to guide thee ? 
Though the wild river still 

Foameth below thee, 
No wave, without His will, 

E'er can o'erflow thee ; 
Nor on yon spirit shore 

Will that Friend leave thee : 
Life's latest struggles o'er, 

Christ shall receive thee. 



THE GIFT IN THE TREASURY. 

"Thou shalt surely give him; and thine heart shall not be grieved when 
thou givest unto him : because that for this thing the Lord thy God shall 
bless thee." — Deut. xv. 10. 

I T was no wealth thou gavest me, 
Nor gift that gold could bring ; 
And none beside thy God did see 
Thy heart -wrung offering. 

A tear — God bless thee for that tear ! 

A prayer — Christ holds it now; 
Sweet was the music on my ear, 

The balm upon my brow. 

An angel bore that tear on high ; 

The prayer my Father heard, 
And safe in His own treasury 

Garnered each broken word. 



Whispers in the Palms. 37 

Oh think ! in that bright land of peace, 

Without a stain or spot, 
Till tears and prayers alike shall cease, 

Thy gift is unforgot. 

Jesus presents each broken prayer 

Before our Father's throne, 
And every tear He ga there th there 

Hath whispers of its own. 



"WEEP NOT." 



" Now when He came nigh to the gate of the city, behold there was a 
dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. . . . 
And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto her. 
Weep not." — Luke vii. 12, 13. 

j|EEP not ! " How vain the words ! how sad in sorrow 
Falleth the world's cold solace on the ear ! 
"Weep not !" Can gentle lips no phrases borrow 
To soothe the grief that brings the bitter tear ? 
" Weep not ! " Go tell the mother, when she presses 
Her first-born to the breast, to smile no more : 
If thou canst still her joy, her glad caresses, 

Speak to the mourner, bid his grief be o'er. 
Thou sayest, "Becalm; weep not!" Did we inherit 

No earthly sympathies, to hold these frail 
Endearing ties, then might the listening spirit 

Heed thy wise counsel, and thy words prevail. 
Is not our heart's sweet sunshine from the faces 

We have best loved to look on ? When 'tis flown, 
Gaze we not backwards on its lingering traces, 
As through life's darkened path we tread alone ? 



38 Whispers in the Palms. 

The bird pines for its mate ; nay, if a flower 

Be but too roughly from its green stem torn, 
The tree will droop and die. It is the dower 

Of hearts that best have loved, to deepest mourn. 
"Weep not !" One voice hath breathed those words ; none other 

Can dry the tear ; — as by the gates of Nam 
His eye of pity marked the widowed mother, 

And to her arms restored her son again. 
Oh ! softly tread where Sorrow's children languish 

In silence ; thou the bruised soul revere ; 
Wake not the smitten heart to keener anguish ; 

With idle comfort vex not thou the ear. 
Nay ! let them weep by life's deserted dwelling, 

In that deep silence God Himself will speak. 
Oh ! not for us to read the sorrow swelling 

In the veiled heart that is so near to break : 
The Saviour watcheth ! — on His breast she weepeth. 

With sweet compassion, He who spoke at Nain 
Breathes to her soul, "A little time he sleepeth; 

Weep not; I will restore thy child again." 



THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 

'Behold how He loved him!" — John xi. 36. 

jJISPING voices in the wild wood 
Bring back memories of one 
Dear to me, whose guileless childhood 
Seemed in heaven first begun. 

He could teach me, little learner, 
With the lore his spirit brought, 

Ere to my own heart a sterner, 
Sadder lesson had been taught. 



Whispers in the Palms. 39 

Yes, I saw him oft the teacher 

With a wisdom mute and sweet ; 
Like the flower (silent preacher !) 

In its beauty at my feet. 

Fair he was ; but he is fairer 

In the robe he now doth wear : 
Dear to me ; but he is dearer, 

For no change can reach him there. 

When the wintry day declined, 

And the twilight closed around, 
Loving arms were round me twined, 

And a voice of silvery sound 

Pleaded for — no tale of daring — 

But that wondrous Eastern Star, 
Shepherds, while their night-watch sharing, 

Saw, and followed from afar. 

O'er the opened page before us 

His young eyes entranced ran, 
Spelling out the Angel's chorus, 

" Peace on Earth, good will to Man." 

To his heart those spots were dearest 

Which the feet of Jesus trod ; 
To his lips those words were nearest 

That revealed the love of God. 

How the Saviour paused to pity 

Sorrowing hearts and moans of pain ; 

When the widow of the city 
Met Him at the gates of Nain ; 



40 Whispers in the Palms. 

How the ruler's little daughter 

Seemed beyond His power to save, 

Till to life the Saviour brought her, 
Rescued from the yawning grave. 

Thoughtful eye and rosy finger, 
On the Book before us spread, 

Loving best of all to linger 

Where it told of Lazarus — dead. 

Oft his cheek with tear-drops glistened, 
And the childish breast was moved, 

While in eager joy he listened 
How his friend the Saviour loved. 

Then the young child, upward gazing, 
Marvelled o'er the spirit's track, 

And if Christ, while Lazarus raising, 
Wept to call the loved one back. 

"Were the tears, His bosom heaving, 
For their human sorrow shed ? 

Or o'er friends so unbelieving, 

And for hearts so cold and dead ?" 

Could I tell — "Did Lazarus wander 
Sorrowfully back, or come 

Gladly, though beholding yonder 
Something of his glorious home ? 

" Was Death's last chain still unriven? 

Was the sinner's claim denied, 
Until Christ returned to heaven, 

When the gates were opened wide?" 



Whispers in the Palms. 41 

Child ! now wiser than our sages, 

Thou canst tell if it be so ; 
Thou hast turned the wondrous pages 

Which are closed to us below. 

Though the silent grave's embraces 

Hid the slumberer in its breast, 
Lazarus rose, and lost all traces 

Of his four days' shrouded rest. 

Not corruption can inherit 

Joys divine that heaven doth give ; 
Christ's blest voice must reach the spirit, 

He who hears that voice shall live. 

Still He standeth at the portal 

Of the sepulchre of earth, 
Unto love and life immortal 

Calleth He the sleeper forth. 

Still His eye the bosom readeth, 

And its hidden depths of woe ; 
Tenderly He inter cedeth 

For His sorrowing ones below. 

When my soul in sloth is sleeping, 

Wake it, Lord, to hear Thy voice ; 
When my downcast eyes are weeping, 

Let me see Thee, and rejoice. 

Canaan's shores gleam nearer — nearer, 

And we long the land to win, 
Angels' anthems echo clearer 

As our loved ones enter in. 



42 Whispers in the Palms. 

We would vainly track them, reaching 
Into realms where they may be 

Perfected by holy teaching, 

Meet for them who wait with Thee. 

But the sepulchre is sealed, 

None may roll away the stone ; 

Faith alone the way revealeth 
Where the blessed dead are gone. 

Happy pilgrim, fled before me ! 

On those earnest, loving eyes 
Now hath oped the wished-for glory 

Of thy home in Paradise. 

Through the dark flood unforsaken, 
In thy hour of weakness strong ; 

Thou to Christ thy flight hast taken, 
Thou hast heard the angels' song. 

Not within the gloomy prison 
Of the grave I look for thee; 

Jesu's friend to Him hath risen, 
And with Him thy home will be. 



THOUGHTS IN SICKNESS. 

" Wait on the Lord : be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine 
heart: wait, I say, on the Lord." — Psalm xxvii. 14. 

|Y heart rejoicing in Thy love, 

O Lord, I longed to dwell 
Within Thy courts, to serve Thee there 
With them who loved Thee well. 



Whispers in the Palms. 43 

" Show me the path," I inly prayed, 

"That leadeth, Lord, to Thee;" 
And weary days and wakeful nights 

Thou hast appointed me. 

Feebly arose my song of praise : 

Thy face was turned away : 
I missed Thy smile, and so my soul 

Went mourning all the day. 

" God hath forsaken me!" I cried, 

In those drear hours of pain ; 
" Oh ! once I thought myself His child — 

He would His child sustain. 

' ' Where is Thy loving tenderness, 

The comfort of Thy Word?" 
In gentle tone it chided me, 

"Wait thou upon the Lord : 

" His ways are not thy ways ; His thoughts 

To man's discernment dim ; 
The very path so dark to thee 

Will lead thee near to Him. 

" Weigh not His love by thy poor love, 

His wisdom by thine own ; 
Believe His faithful promises, 

And rest on Him alone. 

" If thou be not His child, why weep 

The hiding of His face? 
Why sorrow that thine eyes no more 

His gracious teachings trace ? 



44 Whispers in the Palms. 

" Long through the wilderness He led 

His people gently on, 
And bade them trust Him in the cloud, 

As when the bright flame shone. 

" Wait on the Lord ! still seek His face, 
And thou shalt strengthened be ; 

Yea, wait ; and thou shalt say, ' O Lord, 
'Tis good to wait on Thee.'" 



THE TREASURE HOUSE. 

" It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body." — i Cor. xv. 44. 
"Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given me, be with me 
where I am ; that they may behold my glory." — John xvii. 24. 

IJOOM for our treasure, closed Tomb ! 

Open thy doors, O Grave ! 
Take all the angel Death can claim, 

And all that thou canst have. 
For Christ to thy dark gates went down, 

And rent the vail in twain ; 
And gleams of glory, else unseen, 

Point where He rose again. 

Room for thy kindred dust, O Earth ! 

The casket of the soul ; 
Room for a little while, and then 

Resign thy proud control. 
O Death ! where is thy boasted power 

That breaks Life's three-fold cord, 
When the freed spirit upward soars 

To meet her risen Lord ? 



Whispers in the Palms. 45 

Take, then, the garment of our loved, 

Still precious for her sake ; 
But glorious shall that garment be 

When Christ shall bid her wake. 
The faded form thou dost enfold, 

On which we weeping gazed, 
Shall lose each stain of Earth, and be 

In incorruption raised. 



THE RIVER. 

"The liberal soul shall be made fat; and he that watereth shall be 
watered also himself." — Prov. xi. 25. 

~~ |]HE river floweth onward, 

Forth from its silent source ; 
It filleth many a fountain, 

But stayeth not its course ; 
But onward, ever onward, 

To the sounding sea it flows ; 
And a welcome greets the streamlet 

From the hill-side whence it rose. 

The merchant ship it beareth, 

It turns the homely mill, 
The meadow's silv'ry sluices 

The quiet waters fill ; 
And yet the flowering sedges, 

And the little brook-lime, share 
The blessings that it bringeth 

In its calm course everywhere. 



4.6 Whispers in the Palms. 

Fame proudly names the river, 

With the world's wealth freighted o'er ; 
But to her the fisher's vessel 

Is dear as chartered store. 
Not for a crowned monarch 

Will a whispering wavelet stay : 
It wandereth to the hamlet, 

Where the poor man's children play. 

None praise it, where it seeketh 

The valley dark and still ; 
But the moonbeams smile upon it, 

And the clouds their bright urns fill 
From its pure wave, to quicken 

Some dying flower of earth, 
That knows not to what fountain 

Her beauty owes its birth. 

O soul ! is there no lesson 

In that river's ceaseless flow ? 
Hast thou learnt the bliss of blessing 

In this barren land below ? 
Then heed not who may own thee 

In thy pathway drear and dim, 
For God looks down upon thee : 

Do thou look up to Him. 



IVJiispers in the Pal jus. 47 



PRAYER. 

'And His disciples .... went and told Jesus." — Matt. xiv. 12. 

"jjXOW'ST thou, soul, that in yon blessed sphere, 

Where Jesus reigns, He doth securely hold 
A cure for all thy sin and sorrow here ? 

Why art thou so perplexed when thou dost fold, 
Idly or scornfully, within thy hands 

The key to His rich treasury ? Yet now 
Thy scalding tears but water barren lands, 

And mark a deeper furrow in thy brow. 
With hand unlifted, and unbended knee, 

Thou wailest wildly o'er a broken toy: 
Thou wilt not use the golden promise-key, 

Why let the rust its precious use destroy? 
Hast thou a fonder friend, and wilt thou tell 

To him the woe that wounds ? or dost thou hide 
Within the pierced heart's most secret cell 

Thy rankling anguish ? Is it shame, or pride, 
Or cold indifference, or unbelief? 

O soul most desolate, look up ! For thee 
One faithful voice doth promise sure relief. 

Whate'er thy sin, whate'er thy sorrow be, 
Tell all to Jesus. He looketh where 

The weary-hearted weep, and draweth near 
To listen fondly to the half- formed prayer, 

Or read the silent pleading of a tear. 
Lose not thy privilege, O silent soul ; 

Pour out thy sorrow at thy Saviour's feet. 
What outcast spurns the hand that gives the dole ? 

Oh, let Him hear thy voice ! to Him thy voice is sweet. 



48 Whispers i?i the Palms. 



THE WINTER'S DAY. 

"Thou hast made summer and winter." — Psalm lxxiv. 17. 

" Behold the fowls of the air ; for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor 
gather into barns ; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not 
much better than they?" — Matt. vi. 26. 

"All things were created by Him, and for Him." — Col. i. 16. 

DREARY world ! O mournful life ! " 
I cried, heart -weary with the strife, 

As on my way I went. 
The clouds of care my soul oppressed, 
And in the silence of my breast 
Waked only discontent. 

I gazed in listless thought around ; 
The earth, in icy fetters bound, 

Afar its white fields spread ; 
When, on a frost - encrusted spray, 
A bird, as glad as summer's day, 

Sang sweetly overhead. 

" O sullen heart !" he seemed to sing, 
" Did summer find thee murmuring? 

Recount thy mercies past ; 
Or if thou art too dull to raise 
Thy voice, then join another's praise ; 

Away thy shadows cast ! 

" The lilies, cradled in the tomb, 

But wait for May's soft breath to bloom 

Where thou hast weeping trod ; 
And, like the birds that wing the air, 
Some message from our Master bear : 

We are the harps of God ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 49 

11 Better a hollow cave to be, 
Filled with the murmur of the sea, 

Owning God's voice all times, 
Than deaf but to the world's wild din, 
With not an echo waked within 

To His most holy chimes. 

"The rising breeze may softly swell 
A song within the lily bell, 

Or wake the cedar's roar ; 
Lash the wild billows as they sweep, 
Or whispering wavelets hush to sleep, 

That sigh along the shore. 

" Each hath its mission, and can thrill 
The listening soul, that, waiting still, 

Shall deeper lessons share. 
Poor child ! look on my leafless tree, 
Think how thy Father cares for me ; 

'Twill shame thee of despair ! 

" God's harps send forth a solemn tone : 
Not by the jasper walls alone 

The holy minstrels play ; 
But on each mount, in vale and glen, 
Amidst the crowded haunts of men, 

And on a winter's day. 

"Few trace the hand that touched the string, 
But marvel at the lore we bring, 

The wisdom proved and true ; 
And thus the wondering heart looks up, 
And meekly drinks the mingled cup, 

And smiles and hopes anew. " 



50 Whispers in the Palms. 

Thus warbled he, until my heart 
Took in his melody a part, 

Forgetting soon to moan. 
My pale lips, parched with human sighs, 
Untuned to holier harmonies, 

Were meet to wail alone. 

' ' O bird, abashed behold me stand ! 
A harp God gave this feeble hand, 

A song my lips to sing ; 
To cheer some soul that drooped as mine, 
And like a star in gloom to shine, 

And tender thoughts to bring. 

" Content to be unrecognized, 

A thing of nought, or lightly prized, 

Scorned where my Master bled; 
Remembered but by kindness done, 
Forgotten — save by Him alone, 

Whose love is o'er me shed. " 

Startled the bird, as though my pain 
Swept o'er the snow-drift, and could stain 

Its glittering wealth ; and then, 
As if the purport he had caught, 
That he, God's messenger, had taught, 

He warbled on again. 

" I have no barn, no store," sang he; 
" Our heavenly Father feedeth me; 

Enough the day doth bring. 
Can God's own children find a dearth ? 
His granaries, spread o'er all the earth, 

Full wide His hand doth fling. 



Whispers in the Palms. 51 

" O heart, by Jesu's Spirit sealed, 
O heart, of sin and sorrow healed, 

Go, bask thee in the light ! 
And know, there is no wintry spot 
Where thou canst be and God is not : 

That knowledge makes it bright. 

"The poor, the sorrowful, the blind, 
Thy loving Saviour left behind, 

A living charge to be. 
Go, let their haunts, so drear and dim, 
Echo aloud the name of Him 

Who does so much for thee." 

And so the little bird sang on 
Until his happy task was done, 

And I took up the strain ; 
Then, looking up to God, I strove 
To trace the leadings of His love, 

And sing and work again. 

Thus, Lord, Thy mercies round me spring ; 
At every step they rise to bring 

Some tender thought of Thine, 
Thy thoughts of peace, whose sweet control 
Wakens again my slumbering soul, 

To trace Thy hand divine. 

The sombre clouds of eve arise ; 
But, crowding in the twilight skies, 

They gather golden gleams. 
I doubted that the Sun was nigh, 
Till kindled by His majesty, 

And gladdened by His beams. 
E 2 



52 Whispers in the Palms. 



EVENTIDE. 

" Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear 
no evil : for Thou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." 

Psalm xxiii. 4. 

I WILL not fear the shadows o'er me creeping 
In death's dark passage, whispering words of dread. 
I know that Christ His tender watch is keeping : 
I shall not perish ; He hath died instead. 
Yes, Thou, the sinless Lamb of God, hast taken 
The guilt that bowed my spirit to the dust ; 
And never yet hast Thou the soul forsaken 
That anchored on Thy promises her trust. 

Feeble my ciy, yet Thou, O Lord, hast heard me ; 
Yea, in the midnight Thou dost give me songs ; 
With faithful tenderness Thy love doth guard me, 
In Thy pavilion, safe from strife of tongues ; 
Thou hast been with me, Thou wilt be for ever, 
And I am Thine, O Lord, and Thou art mine : 
Nor earth, nor hell, nor death, nor sin, shall sever 
The bond Thy Spirit sealeth as divine. 

Through the dark valley, though I fainting wander, 
Yet my tried soul reposeth in Thine arms : 
Upon Thy promises, Thy love, I ponder ; 
Thou art my strength ; no foe Thy child alarms. 
Bear me, oh, bear me to yon habitation 
Thou hast prepared for them that hope in Thee ! 
Thou art my song, as Thou art my salvation, 
And Thou my praise and endless joy shalt be. 



Whispers in the Palms. 53 



SITTING AT THE FEET OF JESUS. 

"One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may- 
dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty 
of the Lord, and to enquire in His temple." — Psalm xxvii. 4. 

LORD, I would not choose the way, nor place, 

Nor time to serve Thee : 'tis enough to be, 
To suffer, and be silent Lo, Thy face, 

While I wept here, was bent in love o'er me ! 
Shall I desire to serve when Thou dost teach, 

And bid me listen ? Better busier souls 
Upbraid me, passing with the chiding speech 

That many a gentler spirit oft controls, 
Than I should leave Thee. O Thou tender One ! 

In whose pure light I taste, though incomplete, 
Of Thy completeness, let them "serve alone," 

So that they find me listening at Thy feet 
The sun that measures forth the glorious day 

Is not more precious to the Infinite, 
Than cloud that floated 'neath its beams away, 

Or tiny bud that revelled in its light. 
Let but the flower chalice meekly hold 

Its one lone pearl the weary midnight through ; 
The smiles of morn at last its cup unfold, 

Nor scorns the sun that little drop of dew. 



54 Whispers in the Palms. 



BREAD UPON THE WATERS. 

'* Now we see through a glass, darkly ; but then face to face." 

i Cor. xiii. 12. 
I AY not, " 'Twas all in vain," 

The anguish, and the darkness, and the strife. 
Love thrown upon the waters comes again 
In quenchless yearnings for a nobler life. 
Think, how at midnight, on thy weary sight 

The stars shone forth : beneath their welcome rays 
Thy hopes to heaven, like birds, first took their flight ; 
And thou shalt find them — " after many days." 

Say not, " 'Twas all in vain," 

The vigil, and the sickness, and the tears ; 
For in that land, where there is no more pain, 

The grain is garnered from these mournful years. 
The faded form, once sheltered on thy breast, 

No more thy gentle ministry repays, 
She waits with Jesus in her sinless rest : 

Fear not to find her — " after many days." 

Say not, " 'Twas all in vain," 

Thy tenderness, thy meekness. Oh ! not so ; 
A strength for others' sufferings thou shalt gain, 

As healing balms from bruised flowerets flow. 
Weep not the wealth, in fearless faith cast forth 

On the dark billows, shipwrecked to thy gaze ; 
The bark was frail, the gem has still its worth, 

And "thou shalt find it — after many days." 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 55 

Say not, " 'Twas all in vain," 

The watching, and the waiting, and the prayer : 
In pierced hands hath it unanswered lain ? 

'Twill grow in blessing as it lingers there. 
'Tis space where once thy quivering form was cast ; 

No floating breeze thy heart-wrung cry betrays ; 
Yet through the white-winged choir thy prayer hath past, 

And "thou shalt find it — after many days." 

Say not, '"Twas all in vain," 

Thy patience, and thy pity, and the word 
In warning breathed 'mid passion's hurricane 

(Unheeded here, thy God that whisper heard); 
The tender grief, o'er strangers' sorrows shed; 

The sacrifice, that won no human praise. 
In faith upon the waters cast thy bread, 

For "thou shalt find it — after many days." 



THE BARREN FIG TREE. 

"Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, < 
none : cut it down ; why cumbereth it the ground?" — Luke xiii. 7. 

BIN a fair and fenced garden 
Grew a fig tree, and below 
Stood the Husbandman and Warden, 
Seeking fruit where fruit should grow. 

Seasons had been duly numbered, 
Yet no change the eye could see ; 

Still the ground the root encumbered, 
Still He spared the fruitless tree. 



56 Whispers in the Palms. 

Oftentimes the Lord came seeking 
Fruit, but only leaves were fair ; 

Yet He stayed His arm from wreaking 
All the wrath deserved there. 

1 ' Cut it down ! " I heard the warning 
Trembling through each leafy bough ; 

But the Husbandman returning 
Stayed the axe, nor laid it low. 

" Cut it down ! " Ah, see ! between it 
And the judgment meekly stands 

One with outstretched arms to screen it, 
Shielding it with loving hands. 

" Spare it, Father, for I love it; 

'Twas for this my life-blood fell;" 
Then His hands were raised above it, 

Pierced hands ! I marked them well. 

Oft He pruned it, bending o'er it 
Such a look of love and woe, 

That I thought, could love restore it, 
It had blossomed long ago. 

Dew upon the branch descended, 
Sunshine and the healthful rain, 

And the barren tree He tended 
Till it promised fair again. 

Oh, how often, Lord of Glory, 
In Thy majesty and might, 

Hast Thou o'er Thine own before Thee 
Stayed the sword upraised to smite ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 57 

Finding leaves of poor profession 

On the branch where fruit should shine, 

Promises without possession ; 

Nothing there of Thee or Thine ! 

Lord, if from Thy grace removed, 

Soon must perish branch and root ; 
May we welcome Thee, Beloved, 

"When Thou seekest pleasant fruit ! 



THE FLIGHT OF THE DOVE. 

: Who are these that fly as a cloud, and as the doves to their windows V 

Isaiah Ix. 8. 

AM going, mother, I am going 

To the spirit land ; 
O'er the tideless river flowing 

Where angels stand. 
Yea, beyond that little star, 
Where God's holy children are, 
To my home of light afar, 

'Mid that blest band. 

I am leaving, mother, I am leaving 

Sin's chains below ; 
All the woes that years are weaving, 

Never to know. 
I shall live at Jesu's feet ; 
Sing the new song, clear and sweet. 
Watch and pray that we may meet 

Where now I go. 



58 Whispers in the Palms. 

I am praising, mother, I am praising 
Christ's love to me ; 

While thy dear eyes, downward gazing, 
No light can see ; 

Yet on yon glorious throne 

Reigneth the Holy One : 

Mother, when I am gone 

He'll comfort thee. 

They are singing, mother, they are singing : 
Soft ! Dost thou hear ? 

Hark ! 'tis the echo ringing, 

Sweetly and clear. 

Hark ! hark ! they seem to say, 

"Come, happy child, away." 

Oh, canst thou bid me stay? — 
Jesus is near ! 

He hath bought me, mother, He hath bought me. 

What can compare 
To the robe He hath wrought me, 

The robe I shall wear ? 
Fair though the angels be, 
Yet my soul pants to see 
Jesus, who died for me : 

Lo, He is there ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 59 



WALKING IN DARKNESS. 

"Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of His 
servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light ? let him trust in the 
name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." — Isaiah 1. 10. 

" The God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly." 

"God is love." — i John iv. 8. Rom. xvi. 20. 

SOUL ! that backward turn'st thy gaze 
J Upon the path in other days 
Thou hast rejoicing trod, 
Hope still, though darkness round thee spread : 
There 's mercy in the cloud o'erhead,^ 
Lean thou upon thy God. 

Wait for the strength the Lord will send ; 
He that endureth to the end 

Shall win the crown at last : 
And though the way thou canst not see, 
Christ trod a darker path for thee ; 

He clasps thy weak hand fast. 

One ray of love can pierce the gloom, 
And break the silence of the tomb ; 

Then forth the spirit springs : 
Unto the Lord of Life and Light 
The mourning soul shall take its flight, 

Upward on eagle's wings. 

Despond not, then, O sorrowing one ! 
Still watch and wait for God alone ; 

He waited long for thee : 
And thou shalt see His glory shine, 
And own the Lord is thine — all thine — 

And evermore shall be. 



60 Whispers in the Palms. 

Thou dost forget. Hath He forgot ? 
Thou changest ; but He changes not, 

Nor turns His ear away ; 
As on thy first-breathed prayer He smiled, 
As yesterday He called thee "child," 

He calls thee "child" to-day. 

Oh, droop not ! though a cloud may be 
Between the glorious Sun and thee, 

No shade His light can dim ; 
Beneath His smile away shall roll 
The sin-mist of thy wounded soul : 

Only abide in Him. 

O child of God ! perplexed, distressed, 
Still on thy Saviour's promise rest, 

That all His own shall come ; 
The hungry to the feast outspread, 
The mourner to be comforted, 

The wanderer to his home. 

Full many an ambient gale of spring 
Will woo the buds, ere they can fling 

Their fragrance on the air ; 
And ere the early summer-tide 
Their glowing beauties open wide, 

With many a promise fair, 

They will have known the tempest too, 
And morning's showers and evening's dew, 

Stronger for ev'ry storm ! 
For not one tree the Husbandman 
Doth plant, too rude a gale may fan 

Or stranger's hand can harm. 



Whispers in the Palms. 61 

The fairest blossoms from the bough 
Must fade for autumn fruit to grow, 

Nor yet the branch be dead ; 
The blossom falleth to the ground, 
That fruit abundant may be found, 

For leaves and flowerets shed. 

He sent the wild bee to its cell, 
He knew each drop of dew that fell 

On the tree's thirsty root ; 
He bade the south wind gently sigh, 
And dark clouds form a canopy, 

To shelter coming fruit. 

He marks the green spring's tiniest blade, 
He knows His trees, in sun and shade, 

On rock, or pasture green ; 
Oft scorned by others they may grow, 
But Love its own doth ever know, 

Though shadows intervene. 

" Only believe." O wondrous words, 
That wake the doubting soul's dull chords ! 

'Tis Jesus pleadeth thus. 
" Only believe ! " O Lord of Light, 
Help us to watch for Thee by night, 

Who watched long nights for us. 

Thou who hast snatched my soul from death, 
Help me to walk with Thee by faith, 

In darkness as by day, 
Until this unbelieving heart 
See Thee, my Saviour, as Thou art, 

When clouds have passed away. 



62 Whispers in the Palms. 

Thou who, in dread Gethsemane, 
Didst suffer deeper woe for me 

Than I may know, and live, — 
Who gav'st Thy weakest power to tread 
That path on which Thy blood was shed, 

And daily strength dost give, 

Thou art "the same," though faith is low, 
From Thee the streams of mercy flow ; 

Jehovah Lord ! " the same" 
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day: 
Unchanged Thy word with us shall stay, 

For Faithful is Thy name. 

Draw me with cords of love to hear 
And follow Thee without a fear, 

Though darkness veil Thy face : 
Oh, let me meekly learn Thy will, 
And know that Thou art with me still, 

Though not a step I trace. 

Lord, is not love enough to win 

Our hearts to Thee, where clouds and sin 

No more shall mar our rest ; 
Enough to bid our murmurs cease ? 
Unto the mourner whisper "peace," 

And draw us to Thy breast. 



Whispers in the Palms. 63 



THE WITHERED GOURD. 

' I was dumb, I opened not my mouth ; because Thou didst it." 

Psalm xxxix. 9. 

§ EAR me, my God ; and if my lip hath dared 

To murmur 'neath Thy hand, oh, teach me now 
To feel each inmost thought before Thee bared, 

And this rebellious will in faith to bow. 
Though I wept wildly o'er the 'ruined shrine, 

Where earthly idols held Thy place alone, 
Now purify and make this temple Thine, 

And teach me, Lord, to say, "Thy will be done!" 

The waters that had slaked my burning thirst 

In the wild wilderness forgot to flow ; 
The gourd, whose growth I had too fondly nursed, 

Soon ceased its fruit and foliage to bestow ; 
The fountains all were dry : but Thou didst bring 

My fainting steps unto Thy path once more; 
Thy love hath led me to that heavenly spring, 

And gently bade me " drink, and thirst no more." 

Beneath the shelter of the gourd I dwelt, 

And in its beauty dreamt not of decay, 
But soon it withered : then I trembling knelt, 

I knew the voice that bade it fade away. 
I watched the blossoms drooping at Thy word 

In early morning, and at noon was gone 
E'en the last promise of its buds ! O Lord, 

My heart refused to say, " Thy will be done !" 



64 Whispers in the Palms. 

Ere the fierce fervour of the day was spent, 

Thou, who didst bid my earthly shelter fade, 
Had o'er my fainting head in mercy sent 

A cloud more welcome than love's fleeting shade : 
I blessed the hand that smote, the hand that healed ; 

For not in vain hath died the sinless One, 
Who with His precious blood our pardon sealed, 

And taught me, Lord, to say, "Thy will be done ! 

What can I bring to offer that is mine? 

A youth of sorrow and a life of sin. 
What can I lay upon Thy hallowed shrine, 

One hope of pardon for the past to win? 
While thus a suppliant at Thy feet I bow, 

Still dare I lift to Thee my tearful eyes ; 
I plead the promise of Thy word, that Thou 

A broken, contrite heart wilt not despise. 

What shall I bring? A bruised spirit, Lord, 

Worn with. the contest, pining now for rest, 
And yearning for Thy peace, as some poor bird, 

'Mid the wild tempest, seeks its mother's breast. 
My sacrifice, the Lamb who died for me ; 

I plead the merits of Thy sinless Son; 
I bring Thy promises ; I trust in Thee. 

In love Thou smitest; Lord, "Thy will be done !" 



THE FIRST MISSIONARY. 

" Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did : is not this 

the Christ?" — John iv. 29. 

j HE left her pitcher at the well, and to her home returned* 
\ The welcome words of life to bear, that in her full heart 
burned ; 

Her kindred and the stranger's ear alike the news receive 
Of water from a hidden spring that Jesus waits to give. 



Whispers in the Palms. 65 

With joyful haste and zealous love she turns to seek her home, 
The ceaseless burden of her theme, " Behold, the Christ is 

come! 
He waits, Messiah waits to bless, as none e'er blessed before ; 
Come, drink ye of the living stream ! believe, and thirst no more. " 

She left her pitcher at the well, her thoughts still homeward bent, 
.Tears, marked by Jesu's eye alone, fell softly as she went ; 
"He told me all that e'er I did," the contrite sinner cried, 
"Nor, to my wounded heart's relief, the healing balm denied. 

" Yea, line by line my life's dark page He gently read me o'er, 
He spake in wisdom and in love as man ne'er spake before, 
Against my soul, so stained with sin, no curse of wrath was hurled : 
Then knew I it was Christ the Lord, the Saviour of the world. 

" Come and behold Messiah's face, of whom the people tell; 
Oh, come and hear His holy voice, He waiteth by the well ; 
Oh, come to Christ !" Samaria's hills echo His name aloud, 
And tidings of Messiah fly amid the wondering crowd. 

Come thou where streams of love abound, and near the fount 

remain ; 
For he who drinks when Jesus draws shall never thirst again : 
Linger no more by Meribah, of bitter memories rife, 
Drink of the well that springeth up to everlasting life. 

Hast thou, like her of Sychar, drunk of that blest fount ? Then go, 
Let others learn the health and life that from the waters flow. 
Go forth, and in Jehovah's might thy voice shall yet be heard, 
And wandering hearts shall turn and bless a feeble woman's word. 



66 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE SOUL'S ALARUM. 

"Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give 
thee light." — Eph. v. 14. 

I ROUSE thee, laggard Soul — awake — awake! 

Rise and depart, for this is not thy rest; 
Bend meekly down, and then as bravely take 

The cross God lays on thee. Though sore distrest, 
And weary be thy way, fear not ! Look up : 

He mighty is to save ! He whispers, "Come." 
Another wine shall fill thy brimming cup 

In the bright mansions of thy Father's home. 
To hosts of heaven, unseen by mortal eye, 

He giveth charge to fence, to guard thy ways : 
They do their Master's bidding joyfully, 

And mark each triumph with a song of praise ; 
Not for their sins He died — He did not take 
His cross to bear for them. Arise, O Soul ! Awake ! 



HEAVEN'S JUBILEE. 

" It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad ; for this thy 
brother was dead, and is alive again ; and was lost, and is found." 

Luke xv. 32. 

I HERE'S joy in heaven! Earth, dost thou, too, share 

The whispered tidings sweet ? 
No sound of gladness echoeth on the air 

Where tread the hurrying feet ; 
Yet, in a lowly chamber which the crowd . 

Is heedless passing by, 
Legions of angels swell the anthem loud 

With songs of victory. 



Whispers in the Palms. 67 

A king is there, and with a mighty hand 

Setteth a prisoner free : 
No crowd of courtiers in his presence stand, 

No flatterers bow the knee. 
A king he reigns on earth, on earth alone, 
Vanquished for ever by a Mightier One. 



Whom hath he freed ? A pilgrim old and poor : 

Yet angels on him wait ; 
A glorious host encamps around that door, 

Seeming so desolate. 
No weeping kindred clasp the feeble hand, 

Nor breathe a parting prayer ; 
No loving friends beside his pillow stand, 

His last fond glance to share. 
More blest than this ! One smiles a welcome down, 

The eye of faith can see, 
Who, pointing to the glory of His crown, 

Whispers, " Still trust in ME." 
One saint the less to earth's cold clime belongs, 
Another voice hath joined the angels' songs. 



There 's joy in heaven ! Yet below no strain 

The jubilee hath told ; 
A loving Father welcomes home again 

A wanderer to the fold 
Brought by the paths he knew not, by the way 

No vulture's eye hath seen, 
Behold a radiance round that soul to-day 

That tells where it hath been. 
The Cross — the badge of suffering and of shame, 

He bendeth down to take, 

F 2 



68 Whispers in the Palms. 

And for the glory of His Master's name 

Doth all on earth forsake : 
The many mansions echo with the sound, 
' ' J°y> j°y m heaven ! Behold the lost one found ! ' 

There 's joy in heaven ! Yet earth hurries on, 

Nor one heart-throb it stirs ; 
No blood-bought kingdom, and no honour won, 

No gold, no fame is hers : 
But in a dwelling shunned as leper's cell, 

A pale, sad woman weeps ; 
Her every tear hath Jesus noted well, 

For tender watch He keeps. 
Low in the dust she lies, the scorners point, 

No pity doth she meet ; 
Yet sinner's hands did meekly once anoint 

The Saviour's sacred feet. 
Men scoff and turn aside ; but angels gaze 
In rapturous joy, and whisper, "Lo, she prays!" 



THE COTTER'S PRAYER. 

'' Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not." 

Psalm lxxi. 18. 
" Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." — Job xiii. 15. 

|ARK ! from the cotter's hearth ascends 

The hymn of joyful praise. 
' ' For all thy blessed gifts, O God, 

Our grateful hearts we raise. 
This fond companion of my youth, 

These children of our love, 
Oh, make them Thine, preserve them Thine, 

Until we meet above." 



Whispers in the Palms. 6g 

Again, beneath that humble roof, 

I heard the cotter's prayer, 
The childless partner of his grief 

Was bowed beside him there ; 
The clear young voices, one by one, 

Had dropped the hymn below, 
To join a holier strain above 

Than we on earth may know. 

Though faltering fell his feeble voice, 

I heard it raised to bless, 
And still a cheerful song arose 

Of praise and thankfulness. 
"Thou, Lord, hast heard Thy servant's prayer, 

Our children are Thine own ; 
But blessings hast Thou left us still : 

Thy gracious will be done." 

Upon his pale and furrowed brow 

Waved locks of silver sheen, 
And channels on the withered cheek 

Told where the tears had been. 
Once had he strove to check the grief 

That pained another's gaze ; 
But now, his eyes may weep unmarked : 

The soothing current stays. 

Oh, there are woes no tears can soothe, 

Nor human love relieve ; 
And harshly sounds the voice that bids 

The mourner cease to grieve. 
But tenderly there waiteth One, 

The trusting soul to bless, 
Who reads as none beside can read 

The heart's own bitterness. 



70 Whispers in the Palms. 

Days passed, and now the aged man 

Knelt by that hearth alone ; 
Yet meekly still I heard him pray, 

" O Lord, Thy will be done. 
Thou didst bestow the blessings, once 

So pleasant in my lot, 
Thou hast recalled Thine own — 'tis well ! 

Thou wilt forsake me not." 



LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 

"The Lord redeemeth the soul of His servants; and none of them that 
trust in Him shall be desolate." — Psalm xxxiv. 22. 

I H, say not life must ever be a vale of tears and woe, 
I And that a dark and thorny path is only ours below. 

How many a beam of light and love is o'er the pilgrim thrown ! 

What blossoms on a barren rock have by his pathway grown ! 

God placed us here; our tasks were marked by His almighty hand; 
A fount of living waters springs in earth's most desert land. 
'Twas love that turned the cup aside thy eager lip had quaffed, 
'Twas wisdom saw (though fair to thee) the poison in the draught. 

He healed the wound, in mercy dealt to save thee endless pain, 
And tenderly the hand of love hath raised thee up again. 
How many a day of health and joy the thankless heart receives, 
Bewailing what love takes away, not heeding all it gives. 

What though the darkness veil awhile the glad sun from our sight, 
And weary hearts will sometimes faint, and winds the blossoms 

blight ; 
Yet in the sunshine and the storm we own a Father's care, 
And though the tempest gather round, our God is everywhere. 



Whispers in the Palms. 71 



THE UNRETURNING BRAVE. 

'Death is swallowed up in victory." — i Cor. xv. 54. 



H, mockingly to mourner's heart the songs of victory come! 

They echo in the vacant place, round broken links of home. 
We heard the tramp of armed men ; we turned aside to pray, 
And questioned, 'mid the music's din, "Our loved ones, where 
are they? 

"Welcome to all that come in peace! Stood ye beside their 

grave ? 
Oh, tell us of our loved and lost, our unreturning brave ! 
What message bring ye from the dead ? what tidings do ye bear ? 
Oh, is this all ; this blotted scroll, this blood-stained tress of hair? " 

Not all. Oh, weep not hopelessly ! A victory, nobler far 
Than all the conquests earth hath seen won by the might of war, 
Waited the bravest and the best ; and now, the warfare done, 
Look up to God, and ye shall learn where these beloved are gone. 

For pennons waving in the field, for death-shout fierce and strong, 
They see a host redeemed from sin, they hear a joyful song ; 
Through glory past all mortal ken they deeper glories trace, 
And robed in Jesus' righteousness behold Him face to face. 

Oh, tenderly and tearfully we tell each record o'er : 

But heaven's bright kingdom nearer is than yon far foreign shore; 

And manhood blushed not at the tears, though grief's full fount 

flowed fast ; 
Yet by the darkness of our day we knew their night had past. 



72 Whispers i?i the Pah?is. 

In honour do we hold our dead, who, 'fore a scoffing world, 

The holy banner of our hope in fearless faith unfurled, 

And with the Word, the Spirit's sword, and with a heavenly 

shield, 
Went forth to meet a deadlier foe on life's fierce battle-field. 

Oh, prayerfully we name their names who rest in Christ have 

found, 
Who loved to breathe to sinners' ears salvation's welcome sound, 
And shared with thirsting souls and dark the grace the Saviour 

gave : 
Still "Victory through the Lamb!" they cry, our bravest of the 

brave. 



NIGHT WATCHES. 

"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try 
you, as though some strange thing happened unto you : but rejoice, inas- 
much as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings ; that, when His glory shall be 
revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy." — i Peter iv. 13, 14. 

"In the night His song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of 
my life." — Psalm xlii. 8. 

IIS, O Lord, our consolation, 

That through poverty and pain, 
By the paths of tribulation, 

We the gate of heaven shall gain ; 
Sweet to know that this cross-bearing 

Thou hast made the Christian's dower : 
Sharper thorns than we are wearing 

Crowned Thee in Thy dying hour. 

In this chamber dark and lonely, 

While the sleepless hours go by, 
'Tis enough to feel Thee only 

Watching o'er me silently. 



Whispers in the Palms. 73 

Every pulse is gladly thrilling, 

As each promise gleams in light ; 
Happy tears mine eyelids filling 

Fall in rapture at the sight. 

No rude voice the silence breaketh, 

God's own Spirit broodeth here ; 
And the soul in awe awaketh, 

Feels th' Eternal presence near ; 
For a new-born sense discloses 

Glimpses of the wondrous whole, 
Whilst the God-man interposes 

'Twixt the glory and the soul. 

Words of light and wisdom endless 

Wake communings in my breast, 
Find me homeless, weary, friendless, 

Leave me hopeful, loved, and blest. 
O'er the jasper walls my spirit, 

Hov'ring, drinks the airs of bliss 
From that land I now inherit, 

Though I weep awhile in this. 

Fly not, shrink not, Soul ! for o'er thee 

Watcheth still the sleepless One ; 
He who bore thy sins before thee 

Bears thee now before the throne. 
On ! but clinging ever nearer 

To the love that suffering taught, 
Count each holy lesson dearer 

For the succour that it brought. 

Can the soul its pinions measure, 

Slumbering in a painless sleep ? 
He who seeks for hidden treasure 

Dares the caverns of the deep. 



74 Whispers in the Palms. 

He who woke the storm hath bound it, 
Christ controls the ocean's strife ; 

He who sought the pearl hath found it, 
Though 'twas purchased with His life. 

Fear not then, O child of heaven, 

Depths that once thy Master trod, 
Steps by which the saints have risen 

To a fellowship with God ; 
But in life's humiliation 

Darkest dealings still adore : 
This shall be thy consolation, 

Jesus trod the way before. 

Watching for the light of morning 

Let us cheer the night with song, 
Till we see the Lord returning 

With His bright angelic throng. 
Praise shall flow in mute thanksgiving, 

Praise shall swell each silent chord ; 
All our joy from heaven receiving, 

We will ever praise the Lord. 

Then the soul thus consecrated 

Grief to gladness all shall turn : 
Shall we weep that we have waited, 

Watching for our Lord's return? 
When the eye the faint dawn catches, 

Herald of " the day" to be, 
Shall we moiu-n these lone Night Watches, 

Passed with Thee, Lord, only Thee? 



Whispers in the Palms. 75 



THE SOUL COMMITTING ITSELF TO GOD. 

" Shew me Thy ways, O Lord : teach me Thy paths." — Psalm xxv. 4. 
" Whom have I in heaven but Thee ? and there is none upon earth that I 
desire beside Thee." — Psalm lxxiii. 25. 

! ATHER, for pleasant paths on earth 

My spirit yearneth not ; 
For loving kindred's clasping hands 

And home I ask Thee not. 
I would forego all anxious thought 

And cast on Thee my care, 
Content to see Thy love in all, 

To trace Thee everywhere. 

Teach me to listen for Thy voice 

When the storm howleth loud ; 
Help me to look for light from Thee 

Beneath the darkest cloud ; 
To feel Thy hand the tempest rules, 

That Thou canst hear and save, 
That Thou hast bounded by Thy will 

The wildest, stormiest wave. 

The thunder yet was ne'er so loud 

To drown the soul's faint cry, 
Nor cloud so dark to hide Thy child 

From Thine all-seeing eye. 
Lighten mine eyes, that I may read 

Thy will where'er I be, 
And from each passing hour receive 

A message, Lord, from Thee. 



j6 Whispers in the Palms. 

Lead me to seek, with patient prayer, 

Thy counsel for my stay, 
And look to Thee to guide my steps 

In Thine appointed way; 
"With glad and grateful heart accept 

The work Thy wisdom wills, 
And bless the hand that all in love 

My cup of sorrow fills. 

Shew me the path that I should take, 

What heart to cheer or bless, 
Even as I would ask of Thee 

For comfort in distress ; 
Content to share in others' joys, 

And if this may not be, 
Still happy that my chequered lot 

Was chosen, Lord, by Thee. 



THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. 

"And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they 
received every man a penny." — Matt. xx. 9. 

" I am the Light of the world : he that followeth me shall not walk in 
darkness, but shall have the light of life."— John viii. 12. 

\ ERPLEXED, world-wearied with the strife, 

My hands hung idly by my side ; 
Marred seemed the promise of my life, 

I would have lain me down and died. 
Unravelled mystery to me, 

Lord, ere I loved Thy holy name, 
That he, who worked one hour for Thee, 

The Master's penny still might claim. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

I, like the murmuring servant, thought 

A higher guerdon God should pay 
To wearied workers who had wrought 

Throughout the noontide of the day. 
I laboured not when noon was high, 

No toilsome burden did I bear; 
The precious hours went swiftly by, 

And found a loiterer idling there. 

Immeasurable mercy now 

Breathes in that welcome call to me, 
That I should hear Thy voice, and Thou 

Shouldst let me work one hour for Thee. 
One little hour to wait and watch, 

As I had never watched before ; 
Thy gentlest whisper, Lord, to catch, 

And lose Thee, leave Thee, never more ! 

The noonday of my life waned fast 

When Christ, in sovereign love, passed by, 
And over me His garment cast, 

And cleansed me in the fountain nigh ; 
He girded me with linen fine, 

And shod me for the mountain way. 
Now I am His, and He is mine, 

And so I work for Him to-day. 

Long had I wept, and counted o'er 

Each bleeding wound, each reckless loss, 
When His sweet voice, unheard before, 

Breathed softly, ' 5 Rise, take up thy cross. " 
I strove to raise it — fearful load ! 

How could I bear it — I, so weak ? 
I gazed upon the lengthening road, 

And waited for my Guide to speak. 



78 Whispers in the Palms. 

As with its weight I vainly strove, 

Not knowing if to fall or flee, 
He whispered still, in tenderest love, 

"Trust in My truth, and follow Me." 
New strength awoke in every limb, 

New joys untasted and unknown ; 
I ask not His, I ask but Him, 

He doth His own will with His own. 

He passed before me on my way, 

Cheered me with gracious words and sweet, 
And through the glimmering twilight grey 

He guided my oft-faltering feet. 
Then closer to His side I drew ; 

We left behind the shades of night, 
We travelled on. A roseate hue 

Bathed all the mountain path with light. 

At every passing cloud I quailed, 

As if each shadow boded wrath ; 
And yet that face, in wisdom veiled, 

Was bent in pity on my path. 
Wounded, when sorrows round me spread 

I sank with grief and pain opprest : 
He dried my tears, my weary head 

He pillowed on His gentle breast. 

Fear not, my Soul, to trust Him now, 

When fiercer foes around thee press ; 
His mercy cannot fail to flow, 

He cannot cease to love and bless. 
O Chief among ten thousand ! Thou 

Art all my soul desires to see ; 
Beam on my darkness, Jesus, now, 

And give me strength to follow Thee. 



Whispers in the Palms. 79 

SPIRIT VOICES. 

"When I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me." — Psalm xlii. 4. 

EARER and. nearer day by day the distant voices come ; 
Soft through the pearly gate they swell, and seem to call 
me home. 
The lamp of life burns faint and low ; ay, let it fainter burn ; 
For who would weep the failing lamp when birds announce the 

morn? 
I saw the faces of my loved gleam through the twilight dim, 
And softly on the morning air arose the heaven-born hymn. 
With looks of love they gazed on me, as none gaze on me now ; 
The glory of the Infinite surrounded every brow. 
Fair lilies, star-like in their bloom, and waving palms they bore, 
And oh, the smiles of peace and joy those heavenly faces wore ! 
Thou who hast fathomed death's dark tide, save me from death's 

alarms ; 
Beneath my trembling soul, oh, stretch Thine everlasting arms ! 
No second cross, no thorny crown can bruise Thy sacred brow; 
Thou who the wine-press trod alone, o'er the dark wave bear me 

now. 
A parting hour, a pang of pain, and then shall pass away 
The veil that shrouds Thee where Thou reign'st in everlasting 

day. 
No sin, no sigh, no withering fear, can wring the bosom there ; 
But basking in Thy smile I shall Thy sinless service share. 
How long, O Lord, how long before Thou 'It take me by the 

hand, 
And I, Thy weakest child, at last among Thy children stand? 
Beyond the stars that steadfast shine my spirit pines to soar, 
To dwell within my Father's house, and leave that home no 

more. 



80 Whispers i?i the Palms. 

O Lord, Thou hast with angel food my fainting spirit fed ; 
If 'tis Thy will I linger here, bless Thou the path I tread ; 
And though my soul doth pant to pass within the pearly gate, 
Yet teach me for Thy summons, Lord, in patience still to wai 



THE PROMISE. 

: ' Thou hast girded me with strength to battle." — 2 Sam. xxii. 40. 

f S thy day thy strength shall be : " 

Thou, the Lord, the promise gave us ; 
Shall we look in vain for Thee 

In the threatening hour to save us ? 
Precious promise breathed to me, 
"As thy day thy strength shall be." 

Lord, my trembling soul forgot 

All my future lay before Thee ! 
Thou hadst fixed the wanderer's lot, 

Thou in love wert watching o'er me. 
Sinking soul, thy fears must fiee, 
' ' As thy day thy strength shall be. " 

God the promise writ in blood ; 

Dost thou dread that He will fail thee ? 
Death nor hell His might withstood ; 

Tremble not, though doubts assail thee : 
Rest on Him, and thou wilt see, 
"As thy day thy strength shall be." 



Whispers in the Palms. 81 



THE STRANGER. 

" He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness; 
He led him about, He instructed him, He kept him as the apple of His 
eye." — Deut. xxxii. 10. 

" Behold, I stand at the door and knock." — Rev. iii. 20. 

pAR from the faithful pilgrim band 
]| I wandered in a desert land ; 

My garments stained by earth's dark soil, 

Feet torn, and weary with the toil 

Of lengthened travel. Days had gone, 

And left me heart -sick and alone. 

Low in the dust I threw me there, 

In sullen silence of despair, 

And from the burden that I bore 

A scroll I took: 'twas blotted o'er; 

No page unmarred, each sore defaced 

By wilful hands : and there I traced 

The mystic characters I fain 

Had hidden from my sight again. 

Line after line I saw arise, 

With sad upbraiding memories : 

The sins of youth, of manhood's years, 

Each footstep stained by blood or tears, 

Until I dreamed that fiends around 

Had chained me, in unhallowed ground, 

And God foredoomed my wretched lot, 

"Depart, depart; I know thee not,!" 

'Twas midnight in that desert land, 

When, lo ! I saw before me stand 

A Stranger. Majesty and grace 

Arrayed His form, and from His face 



Whispers in the Palms. 

A lambent light of glory spread, 

That o'er each passing footstep played. 

With sweet compassion in His eye 

He spake, " Return; why wilt thou die? 

Behold the Lamb of God who died, 

These pierced feet, this bleeding side ! 

With thorns for thee my brow was crowned, 

These hands in anguish harshly bound, 

That all thy sin might be forgiven : 

I won thee hope, and peace, and heaven. 

My blood can cleanse from every stain ; 

Say, shall that blood be shed in vain?" 

With gentle gesture then He took 

From my weak hand the blotted book, 

And 'neath His garments, shining bright, 

He hid the dark scroll from my sight. 

In pleasant pastures, at His will, 

He led me, and by waters still, 

That I might learn His voice to know, 

And seek where living fountains flow. 

Then sandals bound He on my feet, 

A song He taught me, strange and sweet ; 

Bound up my bleeding heart, and smiled, 

And tenderly He called me ' ' child. " 

He smiled upon me ! Could it be, 

The sinless One had smiled on me ? 

Thus was His quenchless love revealed, 

And by His wounds my own are healed. 

Long years He waited at my gate, 

thankless soul, that made Him wait ! 

1 heard Him, and remained unmoved; 

Yet still He knocked, and watched, and loved. 

O tender love, unchanged alone 

When earth's false joys and smiles were gone ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 83 

O mighty love, that stooped to bless 

The wanderer in the wilderness ! 

By Thee alone the feeble stand, 

And none shall pluck them from Thy hand. 



THE DESERT DREAM. 

" God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, 
in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings 
upon the bed ; then He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruc- 
tion." — Job xxxiii. 14-16. 

" The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof; 
but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth." — John iii. 8. 

[||p|||]HE trackless desert's burning sand around the wanderer 

The dead air ceased to echo back the weary camel's tread ; 
He turned him to the glowing sky, pale in the day-god's blaze, 
Then far across the scorching plain he cast his sickening gaze. 
Alone he stood : no welcome stream nor mountain's shadow broke 
The boundless waste, no sound of life the deep dim silence woke : 
Alone — if 'tis to be alone wdien memory's spells are cast 
To summon phantoms from the dead, and voices of the past 
Long woven in the tangled web of this mysterious brain, 
Till time and space are things of nought, and all is ours again. 



More slowly move the wandering band, veiled is the slumberer's 

brow, 
No longer o'er the drear expanse his spirit broodeth now. 
'Mid the wild woodlands of his home, beside the mountain stream, 
His boyhood's sports, his manhood's hopes, are crowding on his 

dream : 
The thousand memories that time hath shadowed with his wing, 
And forms long silent in the grave, about his pathway cling ; 



84 Whispers in the Palms. 

The willows with their drooping boughs their chequered shadow 

cast, 

The summer breeze sweeps o'er the wave as when he saw it last : 
The dew still sparkles; not a blade but bends beneath its gem, 
And not a flower but hails the day with its bright diadem. 

But sweeter things than summer flowers that slumbering sense 

reveals : 
One vanished form that heaven hath claimed upon his vision 

steals, 

And whispered words are blending with the water's gentle flow, 
From fond lips murmuring near his own, in tones as soft and low 
As if the sweet task still were theirs his gloomy fate to bless, 
As if the world had never wreathed his life with bitterness. 
The bright cheek pillowed on his breast wears still the smile it 

wore, 
One faithful hand hath clasped his own that he will clasp no more. 

Here mingled friendships, formed ere yet the world's dark field 

of strife 

Was entered ; when the loyal heart, with generous impulse rife, 
Gave forth the rich untutored thought the future laughed to scorn, 
Or uttered with a withering sneer the young lip ne'er had worn. 
Man's graver converse blends with sports of boyhood's boisterous 

glee, 

And childish prayers his lip had lisped beside a mother's knee. 
Amidst them all, distinct and slow, a measured music swells, 
And hill and valley seem to breathe the sound of Sabbath bells. 
Softly the ancient village chime comes o'er the wave, as clear 
As though the passing breeze had borne the echo to his ear. 

The slumberer starts : no memories rise with forms that meet his 

eye, 
Yet still upon his rapt ear hangs the well known melody. 
He veils his face, but not to shun the noontide's fiery ray, 



Whispers in the Palms. 85 

Though e'en the desert's swarthy child droops on his weary way; 
The dark and fiercely-glancing orbs that on his wakening gleam 
Are other than the looks of love that smiled upon his dream. 
Solemn, and wondrous sweet,- again peals forth that holy chime, 
And the wanderer bendeth low his knee, as in that Sabbath time ; 
And he who mocked at sin and death, and scorned another's woe, 
The desolation of a life in one brief hour doth know. 

Rising amid the past there springs the prayer of early years ; 
Upon the hot sand, thick and fast, unshamed fall manhood's 

tears. 
He hides his face, and from his soul ascends a smothered cry : 
Christ in compassion looketh on that strong man's agony ; 
The Holy One, who wept for us, listens in love to him. 
"Help me, O Lord !" — that prayer hath sped through ranks of 

seraphim ; 
It trembles o'er the golden harps, it floats 'mid songs of praise, 
Mingling with glad hosannahs which rejoicing angels raise ; 
And deeper, louder, sweeter now, from sphere to sphere rolls on, 
"Behold, he prayeth ! Praise to God, a soul for Jesus won ! " 

Thus in the world's wild wilderness, where springs and shade 

are none, 
When hopes, like dreams, have passed away, and youth's bright 

scenes are gone, 
Across the channels of our tears, whose deep fount long hath 

dried, 
Comes o'er the heart's drear waste some sound that home hath 

sanctified. 
Mock not the dreamer. Canst thou track the spirit's mystic 

flight ? 
Vainly ye seek to raise the veil that shrouds it from the sight : 
He from the shadowy land beholds the forms none else may see, 
Some echo lingereth in his ear although unheard by thee. 



86 Whispers in the Palms. 

Oh, mock him not ! thou canst not tell where that rapt soul hath 

been; 

Thou canst not trace the link that binds the seen to the unseen. 
To long lost peace it gently calls, *of suffering mercy tells, 
And pale lips, long unused to pray, have blessed such Sabbath 

bells. 



THE FAITHLESS SOUL. 

'Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?" — Matt. viii. 26. 

ANXIOUS, brooding heart, be still, and learn 
I That love is faith. Can human sense discern 
God's hidden purposes ? and wouldst thou ask 
That each be made all clear to thee ? Thy task 
Lies in obedience. Look thou back, and see 
How thou wert cared for ; mark how over thee 
And thy young life was spread th' unwearying care 
Of Him, the sleepless Shepherd. Pathways fair 
Were for thy faltering feet in mercy made, 
And light broke o'er thee through the gloomiest shade ; 
Thy dull heart quickened to a joyful song, 
Though human love cheered not thy steps along. 
By gentle rivers of refreshment oft, 
Though wandering, thou wert led ; and borne aloft 
In arms that failed thee not, still fondly watched, 
From hidden dangers and destruction snatched. 
God is not changed : He, thy Shepherd, reads 
Thy faithless heart, yet still the way He leads ; 
While o'er the rising billows of life's sea, 
" Save or I perish !" brings Him close to thee. 



Whispers in the Palms. 87 



THE WAYFARER. 

"Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because 
1 belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward." 

Mark ix. 41. 

jlHERE is a straight and narrow path, 

Hedged in with many a thorn, 
And they who reach the starry height 

The Martyr's badge have borne. 
The blood that tracks their wounded feet 

Their trailing robes may hide ; 
But they who mark the tear - stained cheek 

Pass on the other side. 

The Father from on high beheld 

A wayward, erring child, 
A pilgrim from the paths of peace, 

Of treasured joys beguiled. 
He marked the wanderer from the way 

By treacherous robbers led ; 
He saw how faint life's pulses beat, 

How sore the wounds that bled. 

The worldling, heeding not his pain, 

Gazed on him as he lay ; 
The priest, in pomp and scornful pride, 

Went coldly on his way. 
Not so the Saviour, and not so 

The servant He doth send ; 
E'en angels glory in the task, 

The helpless to defend. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 

Blest work ! to cheer the weary heart, 

Or others' burdens bear ; 
Point to the balm of Gilead, 

The good Physician there. 
The bleeding wounds the Saviour binds, 

Pours in the oil and wine, 
And the stranger from His gracious hand 

Commendeth unto thine. 

The tear of pity falleth not 

Unvalued in His sight ; 
His treasury holds each tender word 

Safe with the widow's mite. 
Beware how thou the stranger scorn, 

Deal gently with his pain ; 
The debt of love Christ will repay 

When He returns again. 



TO THE MEMORY 

Of a beloved little Frie7id, who broke off her song on Earth to begin a song 
in Heaven, Sept. 15, 1856. 

"Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto 
you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of My Father 
which is in heaven." — Matt, xviii. 10. 

BIND you remember me!" Each lisping word 
I Seems now a solemn warning, sad and sweet, 

As if from angel lips that voice were heard 

Whispering of home, where we again shall meet. 

O loving child, couldst thou our sorrow see, 

Then would it answer, We remember thee ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 

How shall we think of thee ? 'Tis hard to bear 
The clinging memories rising round thee now ; 

The rippling beauty of thy sunny hair, 

The earnest thought that crowned thy fair young bro 

These in my heart a hallowed store will be, 

And still it whispers, I remember thee ! 

Shall we forget how on thy failing tongue 
" Our Father" trembled in thy childish pain, 

And light upon that foaming billow flung 
Sent but to bear thee to His arms again ? 

Each happy hymn of thine that once could thrill 

My heart to tears seems breathing round me still. 

We will remember thee ! Not as the dead ; 

But as a messenger on earth's dark ways, 
With radiant wings for heaven's bright climate spread, 

And bird - like voice attuned to songs of praise. 
'Mid the blest band we fondly picture thee, 
And through the song sounds still, " Remember me!" 

The Lord had need of her. The little bird 
Hath winged her way unto the far-off land. 

God's golden harps the listening soul hath heard ; 
She, wondering, waves a palm branch in her hand. 

O happy child, from sin and sorrow free ! 

Thy gracious Saviour hath remembered thee. 

O Jesus, who dost comprehend alone 

The depth of all our sorrow and our loss, 

Be Thou the Comforter, Thou Holy One, 

And give us strength to meekly bear Thy cross ! 

Teach us by faith Thy love, O Lord, to see, 

And though we Aveep let us remember Thee I 



9° 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE ANGEL MESSENGER. 

"And now men see not the bright light which is in the clouds." — Job xxxvii. 21. 

IJORROW ! thou art God's angel. On thy track 

A thousand holy messengers have come, 
Calling Thy wandering child in mercy back, 

Pointing afar, and softly whispering, " Home." 
Upon thy path I trace the footsteps bright 

Of One who for my sake with thee hath trod ; 
His tears still gem the thorns, until the light 

Blends into radiance, leading on to God. 
The fathomless dark depths hath Jesus passed, 

And left a lamp to radiate the tomb ; 
And now amid the gloom its beams are cast, 

The lonely valley's darkness to illume. 
Thou art God's angel, Sorrow. Though thy face, 

Veiled by thy shadowy wings, is hid awhile, 
Svreet is the message on thy scroll we trace, 

A holy rapture hath thy parting smile. 
Cowards are we ! Fain would we pass thee by 

When thou wouldst wake the soul by sin long stained ; 
But at thy flight we own thy ministry, 

And find we have an angel entertained. 



PSALM XLII. 



j] S for the pleasant water brooks 
Panteth the hart in vain, 
So doth my thirsting soul, O God, 
Thy presence long to gain. 






Whispers in the Palms. 91 

Yea, with my God, the living God, 

My spirit pants to be ; 
When shall I quit this weary frame, 

And fly, my Lord, to Thee? 

My tears have fallen night and day, 

Where scorners proudly trod ; 
Coldly they gaze upon my grief, 

And cry, "Where is thy God?" 

When I remember former times, 

I give my sorrow way ; 
Once to Thy house I led the throng, 

To keep Thy holy day. 

Why art thou thus bowed down, my soul ? 

Light soon shall round thee spread ; 
Hope in the God thou yet shalt praise, 

Be not disquieted. 

O Lord, my soul is sorrowful : 

I will remind me still 
Of Jordan and the Hermonites, 

From Mizar's sheltering hill. 

Deep calleth unto deep ; the storms 

And billows o'er me roll ; 
Thy waves obeyed Thy word, and swept 

Above my trembling soul. 

Yet in the day Thou wilt command 

Thy loving care for me ; 
And in the night my song shall rise, 

God of my life, to Thee. 



g2 Whispers in the Palms. 

Daily my foes' reproaches pierce 

My spirit as a sword ; 
"Where is thy God?" the scoffers cry, 

And wound me with a word. 



O God, my Rock, forget'st Thou me 

"While thus oppressed I lie ? 
Why go I mourning all my days 

Before the enemy? 

Why art thou cast down, O my soul, 

Beneath the chastening rod ? 
Hope thou in Him : thou yet shalt praise 

Thy Saviour and thy God. 



THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 

' I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go : I 
will guide thee with mine eye." — Psalm xxxii. 8. 

[ PEAK to me, Lord ! not in the thunder cloud, 

Nor in the whirlwind, lest I hear and die ; 
Nor let the fearful tempest, hurling loud, 

Fright my sad soul with its iniquity. 
Speak in Thy still small voice, as it is heard 

By patient watchers waiting at Thy feet ; 
O gracious Spirit ! by Thy Holy Word 

Draw Thou the sinner to Thy mercy- seat. 
Man doth make dark Thy counsel. Oh, speak Thou 

Till a great calm subdues the billows wild ! 
Thy grace sumceth ! Lord, Thy grace bestow, 

And with Thy counsel guide Thy weakest child. 



Whispers in the Palms. g% 



SEED TIME AND HARVEST. 

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and 
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come agaiu with rejoicing, 
bringing his sheaves with him." — Psalm exxvi. 5, 6. 

|]0 forth, though weeping, bearing precious seed; 
Still sow in faith, though not a blade is seen. 
Go forth. The Lamb Himself the way will lead, 
The everlasting arms are o'er thee spread, 

And grain shall ripen where thy tears have been. 

Take up thy burden ; bear it joyfully ; 

Fear not sin's darkest cave to enter in ; 
Though fierce thy foe, yet Israel's Lord is nigh, 
And o'er thy fellow- men He hears thee sigh, 

Seeking for Him thou lov'st a soul to win. 

Go forth. There is no shadow on thy brow, 

No tear that rises, no swift cry to bless 
The seed thou bearest, but He heedeth. Thou 
Shalt soon rejoice ; light breaketh even now : 

On to the mark of thy high calling press. 

The pastures of the wilderness may mock 

Thine earnest labours. Look thou to the hills : 

God shall the chambers of His dew unlock, 

Till living water from the smitten rock 
With fertilizing streams each furrow fills. 

Fret not for sheaves : a holy patience keep ; 

Look for the early and the latter rain, 
For all that faith hath scattered love shall reap. 
Gladness is sown : thy Lord may let thee weep, 

But not one prayer of thine shall be in vain. 



94 Whispers i?i the Palms. 

'Tis thy Beloved gently beckons on ; 

His love illumes for thee each passing cloud. 
When yon fair land of light at last is won, 
And seed time o'er, and harvest work begun, 

He'll own the fruit that shadows now enshroud. 

Behold, the Master standeth at the door ! 

Cry for Sabaoth's Lord ! raise thou thy voice ! 
Short hour of labour, soon shall it be o'er : 
The dawn is breaking, night shall be no more ; 

Then with Thy harvest, Lord, Thou shalt rejoice. 



BETHESDA. 



"Behold, for peace I had great bitterness: but Thou hast in love to my 
soul delivered it from the pit of corruption ; for Thou hast cast all my sins 
behind Thy back." — Isa. xxxviii. 17. 

I O angel, Lord, I wait to see, 

Nor seraph drawing near ; 
I watch Thy glance to fall on me, 

Thy welcome voice to hear. 
Thou needest not that I should tell 

How, by Thy fount apart, 
Long time my tears unheeded fell, 

In loneliness of heart. 

Weeping and waiting still I lay, 

No hand was stretched to save : 
While souls in peace went on their way, 

Healed by the troubled wave, 
I in the bondage of my sin 

Mourned in my grief untold ; 
Yet Thou I knew hadst died to win 

The wanderer to the fold. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

From my dark life's defiled stream 

I looked for light to spring, 
Some glory on my soul to beam, 

Though from an angel's wing. 
Nor angel's wing, nor angel's speech, 

Nor bright celestial sign, 
Can fallen men their vileness teach : 

We wait one glance of Thine. 

We hew us broken cisterns here, 

For solace in our woes, 
While by the wayside, pure and clear, 

Salvation's fountain flows. 
Too prone to seek to walk by sight, 

We miss Thee on our way, 
To make our lowliest labour light, 

And turn our night to day. 

We choose our path (oh, weak and blind !) 

The Shepherd's arms we fly ; 
While He our souls are faint to find, 

Veiled in humanity, 
Lives with the flock ; we little prize 

Life's common tasks to share, 
And yet His weakest recognize 

His hidden glory there. 

Give us Thy promised help, O Lord ; 

All hope from earth is gone ; 
Oh ! speak Thou by Thy Holy Word : 

We cannot walk alone. 
Thou only know'st how long I strove, 

Flow long thou know'st, my soul : 
Put forth, O Lord, Thy hand of love, 

And make the sinner whole. 



g6 Whispers in the Pahns. 



THE VALLEY OF BLESSING. 

; ' If any man serve me, let him follow me : and where I am, there shall 
also my servant be." — John xii. 26. 

] E still, be still. Oh ! hush the woe 

That in your heart is swelling ; 
For in that midnight chamber 

The angel Death is come. 
The tongue, long sealed in silence, now 

Of happy rest is telling ; 
The servant of the Lord of hosts 

The Lord hath summoned home. 

Be still, be still. Hush ! clear and strong, 

From pale lips, as they quiver, 
A gush of heavenly praise is heard, 

With the happy smile of yore : 
" Christ is my all" (ah! 'tis enough), 

" Christ is my own for ever ! 
He is most lovely to my heart, 

I long to love Him more." 

Be still, be still. Death's agonies 

The strong man's frame hath holden; 
But His pierced hand, who conquered death, 

Hath set His loved one free. 
This valley seems a sea of light 

In a sunset clear and golden ; 
For Christ hath said, that where He is, 

There shall His servant be. 



IVliispers in the Palms. 97 

Be still, be still. He marks your tears, 

And fain would calm your sorrow : 
He whispers, "'Tis but Nature,* 

Not the soul, that cannot die ! 
Only a night of anguish, then 

A bright and glad to-morrow : 
Farewell ! but I shall love ye all 

Throughout eternity." 

Be still, be still. What vision fair 

That bed of pain surroundeth ? 
He sees the angels gathering there, 

With kindling eye and brow. 
Hark ! from his dying lips a shout 

Of rapturous joy resoundeth : 
And where the heavenly Master dwells, 

Is the happy servant now. 

Be still, be still. Lay down the Cross, 

And leave earth's woes behind thee ; 
Take up the palm, and wear the crown, 

These spoils are won for thee ; 
Amid the white-robed multitude 

We know that we shall find thee ; 
For Jesus whispers, " Where I am, 

There shall my servant be. " 

* The last words of a beloved servant of God, fallen asleep in Jesus. 
During the pains of death, he burst forth in a hymn he loved, though his 
pale lips quivered in agony. " It is nature," he said, as he marked the tears 
of his daughters, who wept that they could not alleviate his pain. " This is 
not the soul. Christ is my all. He is most lovely. I long to love Him 
more;" and pointing to a spot where he said the angels were visible to him, 
he waved his hand in triumph, and, with a glad "Alleluia" on his lips, 
expired. 



98 Whispers in the Palms. 



SOVEREIGN LOVE. 

" Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us." 

1 John hi. 1. 
f WAS love, abounding love, that won 
m^jJThe Father to bestow the Son, 
To bear His people's shame. 
The guiltless One by fools reviled, 



The Servant meek, the Holy Child, 
Jesus ! Oh, welcome name ! 

'Twas love that drew the Saviour down 
From angels' songs and heavenly throne, 

Upon the cross to die. 
Love bore the taunt, the scourge, the woe, 
(That hour of darkness none may know, ) 

And all for such as I ! 

What brought Thee from Thy rest above, 
Thou Holy One, Thou spotless Dove, 

On man's hard heart to fall ? 
Witness of Three in One to bless, 
Of wisdom, power, and faithfulness, 
'Twas love that did it all ! 

Love did it all, undying love, 

That sin, nor time, nor change can move, 

Tender, enduring, strong. 
The love that hath my sins forgiven, 
That makes my portion and my heaven, 

Shall swell my happy song. 

I'll sing it in the sinner's ear, 
I'll tell it to the worldlings near, 
And ask no other theme : 



Whispers in the Palms. 99 

'Twill flow to soothe the mourner's wail ; 
Children will hold the oft-told tale 
Dearer than fiction's dream. 

Oh, lead me, Holy Dove, to rest, 
Safe on my Saviour's loving breast 

Eternally to dwell ; 
There every cross I can recall, 
And praise the love that ordered all : 

Love doeth all things well. 



A VINEYARD SONG. 

: ' Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power 
of Christ may rest upon me." — 2 Cor. xii. 9. 

||ORK in me, Lord. I would labour 
In Thy vineyard for awhile, 
Thou my feeble faith rewarding 
With the bounty of Thy smile. 
Work in me. 

Work by me, Lord. I would scatter 

Seed by paths that I must tread ; 
Help me on the flowing waters 

Fearlessly to cast my bread. 

Work by me. 

Work for me, Lord. Thou hast chosen 

Things as vile, as base, as weak. 
Let Thine angel go before me, 

Give the word Thou'dst have me speak. 
Work for me. 
H 2 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Work through me, Lord. I am foolish ; 

But my strength Thou dost not need. 
Lo ! I cast me on Thy love, Lord ; 

Work Thou by a broken reed. 

Work through me. 



MIDNIGHT AND DAWN. 

"At even, then ye shall know that the Lord hath brought you out from 
the land of Egypt ; and in the morning, then ye shall see the glory of the 
Lord." — Exodus xvi. 6, 7. 

pARK my shadowed path below, 
Yet, O Lord, I trace Thee here. 
. Welcome, midnight, for I know 
That the dawn is drawing near. 

Never yet the cloudless blue 

On my soul in glory shone, 
Like the stars, that brighter grew, 

Numbered nightly one by one. 

False lights would have lured me on, 

But Thy Spirit's matchless ray 
Steadfast o'er my pathway shone, 

And revealed my bark astray ; 

Wafted from my clinging hands, 

All I loved are drifted far; 
Christ amid the tempest stands, 

Pointing where my treasures are. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 

Billows o'er me now may roll, 

Sunshine cheer me — God knows best ; 
Welcome waves 'neath His control 

Bear me onward to my rest. 

On to Zion's happy shore 

Thou to guide my bark art come ; 
Shall I fear the billows' roar ? 

They but bear the wanderer home. 

Sweet the breeze that bloweth thence, 
And my fainting soul it thrills ; 

Myrrh and fragrant frankincense 
Tell me of the distant hills. 

Welcome, need that brought Thee near, 
Jesus ! Friend of sinners ; mine 

Thus Thy precious voice to hear, 
Thus to grasp Thy robe divine. 

Were my dark sins numbered up, 
Whither should a trembler flee ? 

Ah ! He drained wrath's bitter cup, 
Drained its very dregs for me. 

Nothing of my faithlessness 

Thundered He when Satan raved. 

No ! His still voice did but bless : 
" Look to Me, and be ye saved. " 

Welcome, dawn that never dies, 
Day that needs nor star nor sun, 

Where no tear-mists ever rise, 
Hiding Thee, Eternal One. 



Whispers in the Palms, 



A THOUGHT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

"A sound of battle is in the land, and of great destruction." — Jer. 1. 22. 

"Thine eyes shall see Jerusalem a quiet habitation, a tabernacle that 
shall not be taken down : not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be 
removed, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken. But there 
the glorious Lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers and streams, 
wherein shall go no galley with oars, neither shall gallant ship pass 
thereby." — Isaiah xxxiii. 20, 21. 

~ THOUSAND voices rise on high, 
] Glad in the new-fought victory, 

And heads are bent in prayer ; 
But thousand tongues, that erst have filled 
The air with shouts, for aye are stilled, 
And are not numbered there. 

Prayers to the God of peace resound, 
To bless the carnage strewed around, 

And nerve each hand with might ; 
That when they rise the foe to meet, 
Some brother, smitten at their feet, 

May perish in the fight. 

Cain's altar, where we boldly bring 
Earth's fruits — unholy offering — 

In sacrifice to God ; 
Earth's fruits, of anger, strife, and sin, 
His pure and perfect sight to win, 

Upon a blood-stained sod. 

Weep, rather weep. The widow weeps, 
The orphan mourns, the strife that steeps 

The reeking blade in gore. 
Yea, blush that this our boasted age 
With tears and blood blots history's page, 

Then smiles to read it o'er : 



Wliispers in the Palms. 103 

Wresting God's pure and Holy Word 
To sanction warfare and the sword, 

And prays for Him to bless 
The hand upraised a life to take, 
And with each stroke some heart to make 

Widowed or fatherless. 

A thousand voices breathe around, 

And blood speaks from the soddened ground : 

Both shall God's hearing win. 
Lord, when before Thy throne we stand, 
Oh, pity our benighted land, 

Its sacrifice and sin. 

Why tarriest Thou, O Zion's King ? 
When shall Thy Bride exulting sing 

The glories of that day, 
When love in every soul shall live, 
With peace the world can never give, 

Nor ever take away? 

When shall our sad hearts cease to mourn ? 
When shall our swords to ploughshares turn ? 

Unto the far-off shore 
Our gallant vessels o'er the wave 
Bear forth our loved ones and our brave, 

Who will return no more. 

O Israel's Hope ! O Prince of Peace ! 
When shall this strife and bloodshed cease ? 

When shall Thy coming be ? 
Thy people's prayers Thine audience claim ; 
Let all the nations own Thy name. 

We wait, we watch for Thee. 



104 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE ANGEL OF THE COVENANT. 

' If Thy presence go not with me, carry us not up hence." — Ex. xxx 

f END not Thine angel Death, O my loved Lord, 
To call me hence, unless with him I see 
Thine own all-glorious presence — Thee, the Word, 
Through the dark valley — home to welcome me. 

Vain were the angels' harps, or seraph's song, 
Beauty of cherubim, and heaven's pure air, 

With all my loved ones, in assembled throng 
To greet my sight, if Thou wert absent there. 

Shew me Thy gracious smile upon the way ; 

Oh, let me hail Thy face, my soul's adored ; 
And darkest midnight, welcome as the day, 

Shall bring my Morning Star, my risen Lord. 



THE MIDNIGHT MESSAGE. 

"As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." 

Isaiah lxvi. 
EVER on my ear thus faintly 

Breaks the falling fountain's play, 
Never thus yon fragrant blossoms 

Scent the air at close of day, 
But a midnight vigil rises 

That I kept afar, alone ; 
Life till then a mystic problem, 

And its holier tasks unknown. 



_ 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Thus a fountain's measured plashing 

I had heedless rested by, 
Wearied like the world's cold wisdom 

With its dull monotony. 
Other sounds had sunk in silence, 

Not a voice of love or cheer 
Whispered in the deepening shadows 

Tones familiar to mine ear. 

Struggling rose my prayer of anguish, 

Like a bird of weary wing 
Beating 'gainst a closed portal, 

Falling faint and fluttering. 
Not a breeze had moved a leaflet 

Of the wild magnolia's bloom, 
When a blossom fell beside me, 

In that night of grief and gloom. 

Not a starry beam broke o'er it, 

Yet it breathed its breath of balm, 
Gleaming fire-flies around it 

Joined in nature's silent psalm ; 
And that cool, fair stranger flower 

Might some tender friend have been, 
Who had sought me in my sorrow, 

And had watched me all unseen ; 

For I drooped my throbbing forehead 

O'er the blossom on my knee, 
Murmuring, "Where art thou, my mother, 

With thy love to comfort me?" 
Deep the pause ; then softly sighing, 

From that solemn sea-girt shore 
Came a voice, whose echo lingers 

In my sad heart evermore, 



io6 Whispers in the Palms. 

" Rise," it seemed to say, "forlorn one, 

Lift thee bravely from the sod, 
Life hath still its tasks — arouse thee ! 

All must change but heaven and God ; 
God, who careth for the sparrow, 

God, who marks each lily fade, 
God, who bounds with sand the ocean, 

Who the sun's bright chambers laid, 

" He hath spread abroad the curtain, 

Shrouding from the world the light, 
Yet above each helpless sleeper 

Watcheth through the hours of night. 
Doth He scorn the sorrow-stricken ? 

Doth He coldly mark thy woe ? 
No ! with gentle benediction 

God the Father looks below, 

" Counts the bitter tears unceasing 

On thy clasped hands which fall, 
Treasures up thy prayers unspoken, 

And thy heart-pangs numbereth all. 
One who was with grief acquainted, 

Walked the earth alone and poor, 
And each woe the Man of Sorrows 

Girds the weakest to endure. 

"Think upon that anguished vigil 

When His blood was wept for thee, 
And thy soul will find a solace 

From that dread Gethsemane. 
He hath trod the way thou treadest, 

Felt the scourge, endured the scorn ; 
Every pang that thou canst suffer 

Christ, the Sinless One, hath borne. 



Whispers in the Palms. 107 

"Trust to Him who died to save thee; 

Rest and home — they are not here ; 
Fairer mansions He hath won thee, 

Where the skies are bright and clear. 
There, from eyes long used to weeping, 

Jesus wipes away the tear ; 
Sweeter sounds than earth's sweet music 

Greet the dulled and heavy ear. 

"There await thee ransomed spirits, 

Who have watched and wept like thee. 
They could lead thee, couldst thou follow, 

Where no wrong, no tears, can be. 
God, who feeds the lowly sparrow, 

Bids thee trust Him. Watch, and wait ; 
For the soul that rests upon Him 

Never can be desolate." 

Softly stole the dawn around me, 

Every sleeping blossom woke, 
And the fountain's falling waters 

On my ear in music broke. 
Then I said, ' ' O soul, henceforward 

Seek no more thy rest below. 
See! the shadows flee before me, 

And the day breaks. Let me go. 

" Forward to the Land of Promise, 

Steep the mountain path may be ; 
But I know whose hand of mercy 

Through each danger guideth me. 
Doubt and fear alike have vanished 

With the burden that I bore ; 
Christ hath loved me, sought me, found me, 

I am His for evermore." 



3 Whispers in the Palms. 

THE FLOWER ON THE GRAVE. 

'If the dead rise not, then is Christ not raised." — i Cor. xv. 16. 

«&wu|S late I paused, in mournful musing, o'er 

A new-made grave, my inward thoughts were rife 
Of her who sought the sepulchre of yore 

With spices to embalm the Lord of life. 
" He is not here you seek, lo ! He is risen," 

Spake angel-watchers, while the mourner wept. 

* * * * 

The King of kings hath burst His rock-bound prison ! 

He too can wake the soul that here hath slept. 
His voice had summoned, from earth's wintry bosom, 

Long slumbering nature — held in icy thrall ; 
And on the grave there bloomed a little blossom, 

Whispering of him for whom our tear-drops fall. 
To my sad heart it was an angel's warning : 

" He whom you weep inhabits not the sod, 
The eastern star, on death's dark midnight dawning, 

Fell on the grave, and lit his way to God. 
Clothed in mean garb, earth's narrow bounds may nourish 

The spirit-buds, enfolded darkly there, 
But the freed blossom in yon clime shall flourish ; 

Ages fleet by, and leave it yet more fair. " 
Thus to the little flower a voice was given ; 

Its heavenly wisdom soothed a mourner's grief, 
Teaching that he I wept with Christ had risen : 

"Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief." 



Whispers in the Palms. 109 



SWEET COUNSEL. 

' ' Then they who feared the Lord spake often one to another ; and the 
Lord hearkened, and heard it : and a book of remembrance was written 
before Him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon His 
name." — Malachi iii. 16. 

SH, tell me no more of the days to come 

When earth shall again be fair ; 
Yon spirit-land hath a rarer light 

Than ever the earth can wear. 
Still speak of that home where the happy dwell, 

Of service — from sin set free, 
Of the holy song of the ransomed tell, 

For sweet is that song to me. 

Let us speak of that Friend who can never change, 

Of the glory His people know, 
Of the voiceless joy which the Spirit breathes, 

That we trembling taste below. 
Oh, if you would gladden my lips with smiles, 

As the shadows of death come on, 
Dwell on the dawn of that brighter day, 

The weary on earth have won. 

Tell of the Cross, where my Saviour bled, 

That my soul may forget her fears, 
Point where the Son for the sinner pleads, 

And wipeth the sinner's tears. 
There are mansions bright in my Father's house, 

And will He not guide me home ? 
Yea, soft to my soul through the pearly gate, 

The Spirit and Bride say, " Come." 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE WAY HOME. 

"Art thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep ; 
that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransomed to pass over?" 

Isa. li. 10. 
MUSED on the pain and the terror 
That wait on the body's last breath, 
Till I sank 'neath distrust's galling fetter, 
Bowed down in the bondage of death. 

While I pondered on passing the Jordan, 

My spirit waxed cold as the wave ; 
Thy joy, O my Lord, had departed, 

And left me the gloom of the grave. 

He who ruleth the billows, and reigneth, 

Was hid from my vision awhile, 
And alone in my grief I went mourning, 

Bereft of the Holy One's smile. 

He who spake to the prophets before us, 
Speaketh once and again in a dream. 

In slumber I passed a green valley, 
And stood on the banks of a stream ; 

A silvery mist veiled the distance, 

One star its soft radiance gave, 
Shedding light on my feet when I rested, 

And beams on the dark troubled wave. 

I watched the chill shadows of midnight 

Float over the mountain afar, 
And my pathway seemed marked through the river 

By rays of the bright morning star. 



Whispers in the Palms. i 

White lilies gleamed fair in the twilight, 

And beauteous blossoms of blue 
Clustered close to my steps, and I marked them 

The fairer for night's heavy dew. 

I gazed from the earth to the heavens, 

Whence the star of the morning appeared ; 

That glance filled my soul with its glory, 
No longer I tarried or feared. 

Then I saw but the Guide who had led me, 

As, faltering and feeble, I strove 
To follow the footprints of Jesus, 

Upheld by His sovereign love. 

Like a whispering song from the wavelets 

Was the voice of that vision to me : 
" Faint heart, dost thou shrink from death's terror, 

When Christ bore its anguish for thee ? 

" The Jordan flows soft as Siloam, 
Yon star points the way to thy home ; 

Thou shalt not see death, but Jehovah, 

When thy Lord o'er the wave whispers, ' Come. ' 

' ' Keep thine eye on the Star of the Morning, 

And the river of death shall divide ; 
The rock of thine heart in the noonday 

Hath rest for the calm eventide. 

" Thy foes shall soon perish behind thee, 
O'erwhelmed in the wild raging deep, 

And the arms of thy Lord shall enfold thee 
When thou wak'st from thy last silent sleep. 



>ers in the Palms. 

" No more shalt thou tremble to wander, 
No more shalt thou droop in thy pain ; 

Thy sorrows shall sink in the river, 
Thou shalt not behold them again. " 

Oh, welcome, sweet Star of the Morning, 
I'll praise Thee with life's latest breath ; 

Come Thou in the clouds of Thy glory, 
Or bright in the shadow of death. 



MEETING IN THE MANY MANSIONS. 

" These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed 
their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are 
they before the throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His temple : 
and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among them. They shall 
hunger no more, neither thirst anymore ; neither shall the sun light on them, 
nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed 
them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters : and God shall 
wipe away all tears from their eyes." — Rev. vii. 14-16. 

fJHOU, my friend, that stooped to love me 
From thy soul's height, calm and clear, 
Out of sight thou soar'st above me, 
Canst thou draw in pity near ? 



In thy spirit's bright expansion, 
Canst thou pass the tideless flood, 

Leave thy long prepared mansion 
In the city of our God ? 

Now the earthly veil removed, 
Hope by glad fruition sealed, 

Dost thou call me still "beloved" 
With each sin in light revealed ? 






WJiispers in the Palms. 113 

Dost thou love me ? wilt thou know me, 

In yon spirit-land of bliss, 
When I lived so far below thee 

While we lingered once in this ? 

Not a grief of mine can reach thee, 

Not a tear can dim thy sight, 
Yet what lessons thou couldst teach me 

From that living land of light. 

Thou hast caught some faint reflection 

Of the Day-star's glorious rays ; 
Lips, once silent in dejection, 

Vocal thrill with songs of praise. 

And thy feet are washed, and never 
Shalt thou soil them. Pure and white 

Is thy raiment now for ever, 
And in Jesu's brightness bright. 

Wilt thou know me, O long parted, 

Changed in glory though we be? 
Thou who lov'dst the lonely-hearted 

Shall a soul rejoicing see ; 

See it with no sin to cloud it, 

In that home where we shall meet, 
Far from sorrows that have bowed it, 

Pressing on to Jesu's feet ; 

Led by streams of life eternal, 

Taught of Him whose words are truth, 

In a land for ever vernal, 

Fair in summer's earliest youth ; 

I 



ii4 Whispers in the Pahns. 

Joyful for past tribulation, 

Stronger for each heart-wrung sigh, 

Fonder for my desolation, 
Richer for my poverty. 

Shall we weep that God doth gather, 
One by one, His children home ? 

Shall we hopeless mourn them ? Rather 
Let us watch for Him to come. 



THE FOUNTAIN IN THE DESERT. 

"God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water." — Gen. xxi. 19. 
" This is my Beloved, and this is my Friend." — Sol. Song v. 16. 

I^P||JlVE smiles to them whose hearts are glad, and weep 
|p>jjigj3| with them that weep ; 

But all thy soul's deep agonies for Christ's sweet comfort keep. 
Thy wrongs and griefs, unveil them not for others' eyes to scan ; 
The scars thy wounded bosom hides were never healed by man. 

To help us at our sorest need no kindred soul draws nigh, 
We fold our hands and still our sobs, nor ask for sympathy. 
There are no words for speechless woe : no words the Saviour 

needs; 
Thy tearful glance implores His aid, thy very silence pleads. 

1 ' Blessed are ye that mourn" — behold His tender hands outspread 
Blessed are ye that hear His voice — " Ye shall be comforted. 
Then seek Him, O thou bruised heart ; each tear thy Lord d 

know, 
For He that smote the hidden source forbids them not to flow. 



Whispers in the Palms. 115 

When did He coldly pass on earth one eye with sorrow dim ? 
"Come unto Me," He softly breathes. Take thou thy grief to 

Him. 
The crown of thorns encircled then unseen His sacred brow : 
Oh, hath He ceased to love, who wears the crown of glory now? 

Reveal the sins that wound thee sore to Him who loves thee best : 
He waits to cheer thy soul, and soothe thy terror on His breast ; 
He pitieth with a mother's love, a father's tenderest care. 
O faithless child, arise, and see thy Friend, thy Saviour, near. 

No longer in the desert weep by wells so early dry ; 
But, looking up to God, behold His angel hovering nigh. 
Yea, leave thy best-loved in the shade of Him who loves to bless, 
Pour out thy bitter memories, tell o'er thy loneliness : 

Fear not but He will point thy heart to secret springs of joy, 
Whose light the world may hide from thee, but never more destroy. 
It is thy Father calls to thee in every stroke of woe, 
Arise ! go seat thee at His feet, His holy will to know. 

He will not suffer them to want who strive His ear to gain, 
And fainting souls that thirst for Him ne'er sought that source 

in vain. 
Familiar thou with grief's low plaint, seek other hearts to bless, 
Leaning on thy Beloved go, on through the wilderness. 

But by the wayside ponder oft ; grief calleth not aloud, 
The whispered wail of broken hearts is still amid the crowd. 
Watch patiently ; some dying one may long thy peace to know ; 
Be thine the hand to lead him where the living fountains flow. 

Though careless eyes will only read tear channels on thy face, 
The light thy Saviour's smile hath shed some sinking soul may 

trace ; 
And he shall listen to the words that Jesus taught to thee, 
"Weary and heavy laden, hark ! He whispers, ' Come to Me. ' " 
I 2 



n6 Whispers in the Palms. 



PSALM CXXI. 

WILL lift up mine eyes 

To mine everlasting home, 
Unto the Lord my God, 

From whom mine help doth come. 

My help is from the Lord, 

That heaven and earth hath made ; 
The path on my right hand 

His mighty arm will shade. 

No evil power shall move 
The foot His care doth keep ; 

Behold ye, Israel's God 

Doth slumber not, nor sleep. 

He suffereth not the sun 

To smite thee through the day ; 
The terrors of the night 

Before Him flee away. 

He shall His own preserve 
From every threatened ill, 

Wandering or homeward bound 
The Lord shall guard them still. 

Yea, Israel's sons will God 

To Israel's rest restore ; 
The Lord their souls shall bless, 

Now and for evermore. 






llliispers in the Palms. 117 






THE WRECK. 

"There was no more sea." — Rev. xxi. i. 

JN the shore of the blue Atlantic is a wailing of wild 
despair : 
O mourners ! why weep by the waters for treasures that rest 

not there ? 
Each dash of the roaring breakers sounds sad as a funeral 

knell; 
The sob, and the shriek, and the struggle, seem borne on the 
billowy swelL 

Yet dwell not alone on the parting, let memory return to the 

years 
When your tenderness soothed the sad-hearted — your hand dried 

the sorrowful tears, 
When one goal and one hope on your pathway alike their glad 

promises shed : 
Our God is the God of the living — then mourn not the living 

as dead. 

Were your wanderers alone, then, forsaken — unheard on the 

angry wave? 
Unseen by thy Saviour, who raised the dead from the bier and 

the grave ? 
Not lost in the ocean's dark caverns the loved of your household 

sleep, 
But above, in a halo of glory, their watch with the angels keep. 



n8 Whispers in the Palms. 

Afar from the strife and the terror, secure in our Father's home, 
O'er the waste of the world's wild waters they wait for their 

loved to come. 
No trace of their meek endurance o'ershadows the freed ones' 

brow ; 
No dank hair entangled with sea- weed, as ye picture the parted 

now. 

But smiles light their calm, sweet faces ; love beams from each 

tender eye; 
And fair, as it twined round your fingers, the bright golden 

tresses float by. 
Hush ! ' ' Quell thou thy murmurs ; " they whisper, ' ' We sin 

not, we sorrow no more ; 
We would soothe you, beloved, could you listen, till earth's 

passing anguish were o'er. 

"Thy Saviour hath rest for the weary; He heedeth the soul's 

faintest prayer ; 
Ere the desolate utter, ' Lord, hear me ! ' the God of the mourner 

is there. 
Oh watch ! let your light, then, be burning ! none know when 

His coming shall be ; 
In the kingdom of God in its glory — there — there shall be no 

more sea. " 

Then on with a noble courage, unfurrow the grief- knit brow ; 
Could ye see but the band of the blessed, rejoicing in freedom 

now, 
Ye would join in the song of the Seraph, nor hopelessly weep 

by the wave, 
But trustfully give back the treasures our God in His mercy 

once gave. 



Whispers in the Palms. 119 



THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 

' I am the Good Shepherd, and know My sheep, and am known of Mine.' 
John x. 14. 

SOWN in the pleasant pastures, 

Beside the waters still, 
Behold the Shepherd leadeth 

His little flock at will: 
Gently, oh, gently guiding 

The way His sheep must go, 
Still onward to the Fountain 

Where the living waters flow. 

The stranger's voice they heed not, 

When he seeks their ear to win, 
And never can a robber 

To the sheep-fold enter in. 
No hireling is the Shepherd, 

For He His watch will keep ; 
'Tis He alone who giveth 

His own life for His sheep. 

And all His own He knoweth, 

He calleth them to come; 
O'er distant hills they hear Him, 

And so He draws them home. 
Though the way be set with briers, 

Though the narrow path be steep, 
They know His word of warning, 

And the Shepherd knows His sheep. 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Though shadows gather o'er them, 

The night they do not fear ; 
In the silence and the darkness 

His voice they still can hear. 
Though the tempest rave around them, 

The wintry wind be cold, 
They know His care surrounds them, 

Safe sheltered in the fold. 

If the wild wolf's voice affright them, 

By the Shepherd's side they keep ; 
For He who watcheth o'er them 

Will slumber not, nor sleep. 
The heedless sheep may wander, 

He sees the wanderer's track ; 
O'er the mountain, through the valley, 

He will fondly lure it back. 

With tenderness He cleanseth 

The fleece from every stain; 
Binds up each wound, and raiseth 

The weary one again. 
With no harsh blow He greets it, 

For all the pains it cost ; 
With smiles of love He meets it, 

And but for Him 'twere lost. 

If a wayward lamb He findeth, 

Doth He coldly stand aloof, 
Or meet the little trembler 

With voice of stern reproof? 
With gentle words of welcome 

Doth the Good Shepherd come, 
And bears it in His bosom, 

With fond rejoicing, home. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 

And other sheep He owneth, 

Wandering from Him afar ; 
He, the Good Shepherd, knoweth 

Where all His loved ones are. 
The blessed day is dawning, 

That day by Him foretold, 
When they shall own one Shepherd, 

Safe sheltered in one fold. 



HYMN FOR SUMMER. 

" The pastures of the wilderness do spring, for the tree beareth her fruit ; 
the fig-tree and the vine do yield their strength. Be glad then, ye children 
of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God." — Joel ii. 22, 23. 

J HERE'ER I rest mine eyes, O Lord, 

I trace Thy love, Thy power; 
'Tis imaged in the glorious skies, 
'Tis writ in every flower. 

The fragrant grass beneath my feet, 

The bird that skims the air, 
The breeze that gently fans my brow, 

All these Thy love declare. 

The valley rich in golden grain, 

The glittering lake and rills, 
The grazing herd in fertile mead, 

The wild deer on the hills, 

These answer to Thy fostering care ; 

Then can it ever be, 
That I mistrust the guardian hand 

That saves and succours me ! 



">ers in the Palms. 



In hours of loneliness and dread, 

Be this my constant shield : 
It is my Father's love that tends 

The lilies of the field, 

That toil not for their glorious garb ; 

And He, with tender care, 
Feedeth the wild bird's callow brood : 

Will He not hear my prayer ? 

Great is Thy mercy ! Thou hast taught 

My wondering gaze to see, 
In every simple flower that blooms, 

Some welcome boon from Thee : 

In silence of the midnight hour, 

The stars upon their path, 
In ocean with its mirrored depth, 

Its melody or wrath. 

As the bright bow first fondly placed 

For trembling souls to view, 
Thy pledge of love that cannot fail 

Of promise ever true, 

Thy voice is breathing to my soul 

Beneath the forest shade ; 
And oft I pause to bless Thy hand 

That hath such beauty made, 

And yet more curiously hath framed 

The wondrous mind to scan 
Each glorious thing that Thou hast made 

To minister to man ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 123 



ASLEEP IN JESUS. 

"Weep not ; she is not dead, but sleepeth." — Luke viii. 52. 

j]lFE'S fever-dream is over: on her breast 

Fold her fair hands as though she calmly slept ; 
With tender touch close ye her eyes to rest. 

Oh, blessed thought, her last tear hath been wept ! 
Scatter the blossoms lightly on her bier, 

Still leave their blushing glories on her brow ; 
Lovely to them who gaze upon her here, 

But poor to all that meets her vision now. 
God in His tender care our loved one keepeth ; 
Mother, look up ! she is not dead, but sleepeth. 

The little lamb, O Father, Jesu holds 

Safe from the prowling wolf and life's alarms ; 
He gave His life for it, and now He folds 

The timid trembler fondly in His arms. 
The gentle dove was brought with many a prayer, 

Albeit too closely to thy bosom prest ; 
The Saviour, as He marked it fluttering there, 

Hath fondly raised and placed it in His breast. 
So with the ripened grain the bud He reapeth : 
Father, look up ! she is not dead, but sleepeth. 

Oh, gently lay thy heart's rich offering down, 
In fearless faith, on God's own altar now ; 

Say, had ye scorned for her an earthly crown, 
With fading fame to deck thy darling's brow ? 



124 Whispers in the Palms. 

She is not dead ; for Christ doth live for ever. 

As when He stood the ruler's child beside, 
Speaking the words of hope, and failing never 

In faithful love o'er them for whom He died, 
Still to the mourner's heart He comfort speaketh, 
"Fear not, believe: she is not dead, but sleepeth." 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

; 'Thou shalt call His name Jesus; for He shall save His people from 
their sins." — Matt. i. 21. 

j WEETLY through the vault of heaven 

Floats the angels' joyful song : 
"Hail, the Eastern Star hath risen:" 
Earth, the blessed sound prolong ! 

See, He comes, the Holy Stranger! 

Not in palaces of pride ; 
But within a lowly manger 

Doth the Prince of Peace abide. 

No glad songs of triumph, telling 

That the Saviour Christ is born; 
He hath sought a humble dwelling, 

Of earth's mighty ones the scorn. 

Yea, behold Him ! scoffer, scorner, 

For to sinners doth He come ; 
With the meek, and with the mourner, 

Maketh He His peaceful home. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 

Blessed echoes floating o'er us, 
Sweetly on the soul they swell ! 

Let us join the angel chorus, 
"Now is born Immanuel." 



WORDS. 



"Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth: keep the door of my lips." 

Psalm cxli. 3. 
" Every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in 
the day of judgment." — Matt. xii. 36. 

" The words of the pure are pleasant words." — Prov. xv. 26. 

j H, never say a careless word 

Hath not the power to pain ; 
The shaft may ope some hidden wound 

That closes not again. 
Weigh well those light-winged messengers ; 

God marked thy heedless word, 
And with it, too, the falling tear, 

The heart-pang which it stirred. 



Words ! what are words ? An idle breath 

That floateth lightly by, 
Smiles on the lip from whence it came 

In tones of melody. 
Yet words have strength to wound or bless, 

Though lightly they be flung ; 
Still writ upon some human heart, 

Told by an angel's tongue. 



126 Whispers in the Palms. 

Words ! what are words ? A simple sound 

Hath spells to call the tears 
That long have lain a sealed fount, 

Through many mournful years. 
Back from the shrouded sepulchre 

A word hath summoned forth 
A form, that hath its place no more 

Among the things of earth. 

Words ! Heed them well. Some whispered tone 

Hath yet a power to fling 
A shadow on the brow, the soul 

In agony to wring ; 
A name, forbidden or forgot, 

That sometimes unawares 
Murmurs upon our wakening lips, 

And mingles in our prayers. 

Oh, words, sweet words ! A blessing comes 

Softly from kindly lips ; 
Tender, endearing words, that break 

The spirit's drear eclipse. 
Oh, are there not some cherished tones 

Deep in the heart enshrined ? 
Uttered but once, they passed, and left 

A track of light behind. 

Words ! what are words ? Ah ! know'st thou not 

The household names of love ? 
The thousand tender memories 

That float their graves above ? 
Buried beneath the world's cold tread, 

Yet 'mid the crowd they rise, 
And smile, as angel-guests would smile, 

With gentle, earnest eyes. 



Whispers in the Palms. 12J 

Thou hast been blest, if never bent 

Thy head in anguish low 
To hide the trembling lip, the tear 

One word hath caused to flow ; 
Striving in vain to mask the pain 

Veiled by thy silent pride, 
While faintly smiled the blanching lip 

That strove the pang to hide. 

But oh ! more blest if memory bring 

No record from the past, 
When careless word or glance of thine 

A withering shadow cast ; 
If no loved one hath sorrowing wept, 

When through the quivering soul 
Thy bitter words went echoing 

Like thunder's sullen roll. 

God's high and holy dwelling-place 

Those words went floating by, 
And still the echo wanders on 

Throughout eternity; 
And in the silence of the heart 

Their whisper still is heard : 
O Jesus, with thy precious blood 

Blot out the idle word. 

Are there no words that from the fount 

Of life and blessing come, 
Cheering the sorrowing soul with love, 

And leading wanderers home ? 
O Christ ! write Thou Thy words of peace 

Upon my heart, and be 
The guard of each winged messenger 

That upward flies to Thee. 



Whispers in the Palms. 



PSALM CXXXVIL 

j|APTIVE, by Babylon's bright streams, 

We sat us down and wept, 
And on the willows hanged our harps : 

The songs of Zion slept. 
O Zion ! there we thought of thee, 

Yea, wept for thee aloud ; 
Our captors called for mirth from hearts 

In heavy sadness bowed. 

" Sing us of Zion's joyful songs," 

The taunting victor cries. 
How shall we sing in stranger land, 

Lord, Thy melodies ? 

Though my right hand forget her skill, 

My tongue for ever be 
In silence bound, Jerusalem, 

1 will remember thee. 

Remember Edom's children, Lord, 

O Lord, remember them 
Who cried, " Down with it to the dust," 

Our fair Jerusalem. 
Daughter of Babylon, for thee 

Destruction draweth nigh, 
As thou hast served us, so thou 

Shalt waste in misery. 






Whispers in the Palms, 129 



LIFE'S LINKS. 

" Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate 
you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you ; that 
ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven." — Matt. v. 44, 45. 

llTH each soul, upon its birth, 

Mingled links of love are born ; 
Some are knit to coarser earth, 

Some by spirit forms are worn. 
Myriads watch our nightly rest, 

Guarding us with holy care, 
Yielding, at our Lord's behest, 

Gentle guidance everywhere. 

Some on earth will softly flow, 
Cheering oft the weary soul ; 
Others drag the spirit low, 

With a giant's fierce control. 
Strengthen thou, by love and prayer, 
Links that draw thee to thy home ; 
Coarser ones with patience bear, 
Winning other souls to come. 

For the fetters fall away 

As thy freedom draweth nigh, 
Melting 'neath the glorious ray 

Of the Saviour's purity. 
Not one link is granted thee 

So bright, but thou mayst make it dim ; 
Not a fetter shall there be, 

But thou canst make it bright for Him. 



130 Whispers in the Palms. 

Though thy troubled spirit sinks 

'Neath the weight which galls thee sore, 
Scorn not thou those heavy links ; 

Jesus bore them all before. 
He hath borne them ! and shalt thou 

Weeping tread the self-same road, 
When He walks before thee now, 

Bearing all life's heavy load ? 

Doth some heart with thine entwine 

In one holy sympathy ? 
Oh, raise not an idol's shrine, 

Guard God's temple jealously. 
Falter not, with home in sight ; 

Songs of joy the exile greet : 
Wouldst thou keep thy fetters bright ? 

Lay them at the Saviour's feet. 



THE BORDER LAND. 

' My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God : when shall I come and 
appear before God?" — Psalm xlii. 2. 

\ ATHER, on yon shadowy shore 

Thou awhile didst bid me wait ; 
I could almost hear the song 

Floating through the golden gate. 
Life seemed lying 'neath my feet ; 

Closer, Lord, to Thee I drew ; 
For my spirit, half unrobed, 

Yearned to be clothed anew. 



Whispers in the Palms. 131 

Then I felt my fainting soul 

Filling with a new delight, 
On my darkened vision stole 

Dawn of day that hath no night ; 
Thirsting, trembling for the vail 

To be wholly rent for me, 
That from sin's entangling toils 

Evermore I might be free. 

my Father, Thou art wise, 
And Thy ways are full of love. 

Was I fitted for the joys 

Of Thy hallowed courts above ? 
Though my sad heart inly bled, 

Did it bleed alone for sin ? 
Or o'er broken cisterns weep, 

Hidden as a snare within ? 

Was no faithless fear above, 

With its trembling wings to throw 
Gloomier shadow on the path 

That remained for me below? 
Did my hands despairing hang 

Weary in the noontide sun ? 
Did I pine for rest too soon, 

When Thy work was scarce begun ? 

Thou didst call me back to earth : 

What Thou wiliest must be best ; 
Let that glimpse of glory be, 

Father, folded in my breast. 

1 would learn to watch and wait, 
For Thy kingdom still is near, 

Where Thy saints communing meet, 

Where Thou wipest every tear. 

K 2 



132 Whispers in the Palms. 

Lord, we long to enter in, 

Ere the battle-field be won ; 
We Thy crown and throne would share, 

Yet the Cross and shame would shun. 
Let me find my strength in Thee, 

Thankful for Thy mercies past ; 
It will be enough for me 

When I reach Thine arms at last. 

Though the earth less fair appear, 

Though the ties that seemed so strong 
Hang more loosely on my heart 

Than they ever yet have hung, 
Yet, O Lord, Thou dost behold 

Wandering feet, by sin defiled, 
And the subtle snares of sin, 

Hidden in Thy wayward child. 

Should my weak heart ever pine 

For the joy the world doth yield, 
'Gainst the subtle tempter's power 

Be my safeguard and my shield. 
Though I wander, yet I know 

Thou canst bless the way I take : 
I can let the world go by ; 

Thou wilt leave not, nor forsake. 

Let me meekly tread the path 

Thou hast marked for me below, 
In Thy home of light and love 

All Thy dealings I shall know. 
Father, I shall sweetly trace 

Every danger past and o'er, 
Warded from Thy weak one's path 

To yon blessed spirit-shore. 



Whispers in the Palms. 133 

Every trial on my way 

Is a message sent by love, 
The token of a Father's care, 

Whispering of my home above. 
Where the Lamb in glory reigns, 

Where the ransomed martyrs be, 
There my lone soul, satisfied, 

Jesus, shall rejoice in Thee. 



THE WAYSIDE BEGGAR. 

"Blind Bartimseus, the son of Timaeus, sat by the highway side begging 1 . 

Jesus said unto him, Go thy way ; thy faith hath made thee whole. 

And immediately he received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way." 

Mark x. 46, 52. 

|ESUS ! Master! hear my cry; 

Save me, heal me with a word ; 
Fainting at Thy feet I lie, 

Thou my whispered plaint hast heard. 

Jesus ! Master ! mercy show ; 

Thou art passing near my soul, 
Thou my inward grief dost know, 

Thou alone canst make me whole. 

Jesus ! Master ! as of yore 

Thou didst bid the blind man see, 

Light upon my soul restore ; 
Jesus ! Master ! heal Thou me. 



134 Whispers in the Palms, 



IDOLS RENOUNCED. 

" What have I to do any more with idols ?" — Hosea xiv. 8. 
"What agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are the 
temple of the living God." — 2 Cor. vi. 16. 



n 



ORD, I have wandered from Thy ways, 
And knelt at stranger shrine, 

And called another name "beloved," 
And nigh forgotten Thine. 

So faithless I — yet Thou, unchanged, 

Thy truant child did meet ; 
Thou wert the refuge from the storm, 

The shelter from the heat. 

The feeble reed on which I leaned 
A sword of judgment proved, 

And pierced the soul that wandered far 
From Him whom still I loved. 

Jesus ! who, 'midst the songs of joy 
That echo round Thy throne, 

Pleadest the prayer that riseth here 
From me, Thy weakest one ; 

Behold mine idols, perished all ! 

And where I mourning stand, 
I lift my contrite heart to Thee, 

And bless Thy chastening Hand. 

Fill Thou their place ; oh, purify 

My soul from every stain ; 
And be that temple, cleansed by blood, 

Thy dwelling-place again. 



Whispers in the Palms. 135 

Search Thou my heart. If in its depths 

A rival Thou dost see, 
Shatter the temple ; call my soul 

In mercy, Lord, to Thee. 



THE DAWN OF THE BRIGHTER DAY. 

"God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." — Rev. vii. 17. 
"And there shall be no night there." — Rev. xxii. 5. 

jlH, mourn not for me, for I weep no more; 

Death's bitterest pang is past ; 
On the tears that fell on my thorny way 

A rainbow light is cast. 
It comes from the smile of my Saviour's love, 

A smile that the angels share ; 
And fair is the land that its light illumes, 

Nor sorrow nor tears are there. 



Though dark seemed my path to your tender heart, 

It was not dark to me ; 
The shadows that come with the morning sun 

At eventide will flee ; 
For the footprints still where my Saviour trod 

Through the valley a glory wear ; 
They lead to the land where the dawn shall break, 

No shadow nor night is there. 



136 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE THRESHOLD. 

"I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and be with 
Christ." — Phil. i. 23. 

" The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from 
another." — Gen. xxxi. 49. 

t 

AM going to my home, dear one ; 

So dry those tearful eyes 
That night by night my pillow watch, 

Till morn breaks in the skies. 
I am going to my home, dear one, 

As the wild bird seeks its nest, 
"Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest." 

My Saviour's glory in that home 

These heavy eyes will see, 
I shall behold Him as He is; 

My soul pants to be free. 
Low at His feet I lay me down, 

Trusting His love alone ; 
For He who saith, "Give me thine heart," 

Rejects no broken one. 

I am going to my home, dear one ; 

Soon must I leave thy side ; 
Upon the Jordan's banks I stand, 

The Bridegroom waits his bride. 
The angel Death breaks but the chain 

That binds me here below ; 
Thou wouldst not weep, if thou couldst tell 

How glad I am to go. 



Whispers in the Palms. 137 

Couldst thou behold the angel-guards 

That keep their watch to-night, 
How thy fond heart would welcome too 

Each messenger of light. 
Through curtain and through closed door 

The radiant strangers come : 
Weep no more, dear one, — weep no more ; 

They wait to lead me home. 

Thou canst not see how, night by night, 

They crowd this silent room, 
Nor how their gentle ministry 

Dispels the gathering gloom. 
Thou canst not hear the heavenly harps 

That sound so sweet to me, 
The echo of the holy song, 

The new song of the free. 

Hang not thy head, clasp not thy hands 

Despairing on thy breast ; 
Look up to God, and thank Him, love, 

That I have found my rest. 
Cast every anxious care on Him, 

His glory be thine aim ; 
He giveth, and He takes away: 

Oh, blessed be His name ! 

Follow the path we strove to tread, 

In humble faith and prayer ; 
Christ reigns above to succour thee, 

And I shall wait thee there. 
The prayers we have together breathed, 

In absence still may be 
The golden link of love, to bind 

My spirit unto thee. 



138 Whispers in the Palms. 

Not e'en the bitter cup the Lord 

Hath gently bade me drink, 
Nor thorny way before me spread, 

Doth make my spirit shrink ; 
But from the subtle snares of sin 

My soul would fain be free : 
I am going to my Father's house, 

My Father's face to see. 

In yon fair land of peace, dear one, 

No wailing voice is heard ; 
No discord dulls the swelling hymn, 

Nor jars one tuneful chord. 
But the martyr army standeth there, 

And the saints from earth so bright, 
And a countless band with palms, arrayed 

In robes of dazzling white. 

My sad heart looked within, and quailed 

Sin's hateful forms to see ; 
But Christ stretched forth His faithful hand, 

That hand once pierced for me. 
As mists before the risen sun, 

So fled my guilty fears ; 
That hand upheld my sinking head, . 

And wiped away my tears. 

He gently bade me rest awhile 

In desert place apart ; 
The sweet compassion of His smile 

Bore healing to my heart. 
And I can trust the saving grace 

That succoured me in need : 
He did not quench the smoking flax, 

Nor break the bruised reed. 



Whispers in the Palms. 139 

He loveth not with earthly love ; 

No promise is forgot : 
He giveth with a liberal hand, 

And He upbraideth not. 
He loved me when my idols held 

My false heart for their throne ; 
'Mid the wild din of strife and sin, 

He spake in tender tone. 

Whilst I forsook Him, wandering far, 

How oft he stooped to save : 
And sins that man will pardon not, 

My gracious Lord forgave. 
He loved me — He died for me — 

Who long that love withstood ; 
My crimson sins are washed away 

In His most precious Blood. 

To living fountains Jesus leads 

His weary ones, His own ; 
And day and night their voices rise 

Before the great white throne. 
Hunger and thirst they feel no more, 

For He is ever nigh ; 
And with His tender hand He dries 

The tears from every eye. 

There gladdeneth He the mourner's heart ; 

He calleth each by name, 
And gently gathereth them who out 

Of tribulation came : 
The Saviour, and the throned King, 

The Sacrifice, the Priest, 
The Bridegroom of the waiting bride, 

The Master of the feast ! 



140 Whispers in the Palms. 

All, all shall come : earth's arms give up 

The forms she fain would keep ; 
The slumbering bodies of the just 

Shall break their shrouded sleep. 
I am going to my home, dear one ; 

My soul pants to be free : 
I rest upon the Lamb once slain, 

For He hath died for me. 



SHROUDED BLESSINGS. 

" I will lead them in paths that they have not known ; I will make dark- 
ness light before them, and crooked things straight : these things will I do 
unto them, and not forsake them." — Isaiah xlii. 16. 



OT only for the light of loving hearts 

That cheered my lonely life, I thank Thee, God; 
Not for my childhood's home, nor tearless eyes, 

Nor pleasant paths of peace my feet have trod ; 
But that the idols, tenderly embraced 

By this weak heart, and falsely called mine own, 
Thou didst withdraw, that I in time might learn 

To lean upon Thy holy arm alone. 
For the sharp reed that pierced this feeble hand, 

For thorn-torn feet that Thou alone couldst see, 
For the deep fount of tears by Thee told o'er, 

I thank Thee, Lord. They brought me nearer Thee, 



Whispers in the Palms. 141 



THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 

"The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels: 
the Lord is among them, as in Sinai, in the holy place." — Psalm lxviii. 17. 

"There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy 
dwelling. For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all 
thy ways." — Psalm xci. 10, 11. 

I HEY come, the holy legion ; at God's command they come, 
Jj By heavenly might commissioned, from their bright spirit- 
home, 

To watch o'er paths of danger, and darker ones of sin ; 

By the world's weed-grown portals their way unseen they win. 

And soon the angel-reapers again to earth will come, 
The golden grain to gather, and bring the harvest home ; 
Rejoicing in our gladness, as when to earth they came 
Triumphant news to bring us, a Saviour to proclaim. 

In thy lone garden, Olivet, their mournful watch they kept, 
One fainting heart reviving, whose mystic blood was wept ; 
And on the mountain fastness, when the tempter hovered nigh, 
Around God's spotless manhood they kept their ministry. 

From the grave's gloomy entrance they rolled the mighty stone, 
And they whose worship hailed Him, proclaimed the Risen One. 
Are they not ever near us, the servants of our King, 
About our path, around our bed, in gentle minist'ring ? 

Rejoice they not above us, as they mark each sinner come, 
And, God-sent, through the valley lead the weary wanderer home ? 
From the wild river's margin the reckless step they turn ; 
With remembered prayers of childhood they touch the soul forlorn ; 



142 Whispers in the Palms. 

They breathe upon the captive, as he lays him down to rest, 
Sweet visions of the future — the glories of the blest : 
To that mournful prison chamber they have not come in vain ; 
Strengthen thy bolts, O gaoler; but they will come again. 

When children, holy angels were round the path we trod ; 
Our words and works they gathered, and bore them up to God : 
Our heedless steps they guarded o'er many a dangerous steep ; 
They heard our prayers and praises, they smiled upon our sleep. 

O man ! when pleasure lured thee to the 'wildering haunts of sin, 
They stayed thy erring footsteps ere thy sorrow could begin ; 
Brought back a father's blessing, a mother's holy kiss, 
And thy moist eye, upraised to heaven, woke songs of thankful- 
ness. 

O mother ! by that night-watch, once timed by tears and prayer, 
God's watchers round thee hovered, and God Himself was near. 
They raised the fair young spirit thy humble heart resigned, 
And bore it from thy bosom, but they left new faith behind. 

Forsaken one ! who weepeth in thy dwelling, dark and lone, 
About thee crowd the bright ones that sing before the throne. 
Christ, of that host the Captain, thy fainting soul is nigh ; 
Weep not for lost affection 'mid that glorious company. 

On yon pallet gaze, O scoffer ! and behold a good man die : 
A smile his lip illumeth ; there is rapture in his eye. 
For the promised land he longeth ; Christ is not strange to him ; 
Ah ! the pearl of price he holdeth, to which thy gold is dim. 

And tenderly the angels will lead him to the gate 

Where He, the Bridegroom, welcometh the little and the great. 

Back to the world, O scorner ! and con the lesson o'er, 

And pray to God to lead thee to peace and hope once more. 



Whispers in the Palms. 143 

How sweet is your commission, ye servants of my King, 
I own your holy service, and your gentle minist'ring ; 
I praise Thee, Lord of heaven, Thou thus dost guard my way, 
And charge Thy holy angels to keep me night and day. 



THE MOTHER'S PRAYER. 

' Even so. Father; for so it seemed good in Thy sight." — Matt. xi. 26. 

HRIST, who the mourner's plea 

Never hast scorned, 
In my grief look on me ; 

Thou, too, hast mourned. 
Coldly my prayers, O Lord, 

Rose in my woe ; 
But, by Thy holy word, 

Faithful art Thou. 

All of our loved are gone 

Home unto Thee ; 
Leave but this little one, 

Father, with me. 
Thou, Lord, of mercy rife, 

Hearken my prayer ; 
Look on my shadowed life ; 

Spare, Father, spare." 

Hark ! on the heavy ear 

Soft voices come. 
"Mother dear, dry the tear, 

Let him come home. 
Weep not. The bird hath fled 

Back to its nest. 
Weep not the blossom shed 

On Jesus' breast. 



144 Whispers in the Palms. 

Take the cup, kiss the brim, 

(Christ drank before thee,) 
Safe rests thy babe with Him, 

Home in the glory. " 
" Lord, bid my feeble hand 

Slacken its hold, 
Gather Thy little band 

Back to the fold. 

Thine was the gift adored ; 

Bend Thou my heart ; 
Sad is the anguish, Lord, 

Thou knowest, to part. 
' Let them come, ' Thou hast said ; 

So let it be, 
While the lone path I tread, 

Looking to Thee. 

Do Thou Thy holy will, 

While by Thy side, 
Under Thy shadow, still 

Let me abide." 
Tears that at sorrow's source 

Frozen had lain, 
Now in their silent course 

Trickle again. 

Lower the mother's head 

Bends o'er her child, 
Light o'er each face is shed ; 

Angels have smiled, 
Beckoning the spirit where 

Jesus hath gone, 
Bearing the mother's prayer, 

"Thy will be done." 



Whispers in the Palms. 145 

THE SEALED BOOK. 

" Understandest thou what thou readest?" — Acts viii. 30. 

ilNLIGHTEN my dark mind to read aright, 

O Thou, who art the Light, the Truth, the Way, 
Be Thou the Pillar through the gloomy night, 

The Cloud to guide me to the brighter day. 
Speak ! for Thy servant heareth ; bid Thy word 

Draw me to Thee, encourage, or reprove ; 
Incline my heart to do thy will, O Lord, 

And on its tablets trace Thy words of love. 



THE SOUL'S COMMUNINGS. 

" I opened to my Beloved; but my Beloved had withdrawn Himself, and 
was gone: my soul failed when He spake: I sought Him, but I could not 
find Him ; I called Him, but He gave me no answer." — Sol. Song v. 6. 



|HY weep'st thou, daughter, in the dust? 

Why from thy happy rest afar ? 
Is He, then, changed who won thy trust ; 
Changed, as thy songs of triumph are ? 

Say, hast thou wandered from thy Love, 
And dost thou mourn His face to see ? 

Oh, cast a glance of faith above, 

And gaze on Him who died for Thee. 
L 



146 Whispers i?i the Palms. 

Arise ! and from the bonds of sin , 
His hand of love shall set thee free ; 

His wounded hand shall let thee in, 
To live with Him who died for thee. 

Away ! away ! why brood'st thou here ? 

Christ hath redeemed thee with His blood ; 
All things are thine : why shouldst thou fear ? 

For thou art Christ's, and Christ is God ! 

The world ! seek not thy Lord therein, 
For with the proud He hath no part : 

The humble soul He dwells within; 
His home is in the contrite heart. 

Oh, hope inspired, divinely sweet, 
Thy loved Incarnate Lord to see ; 

To cast thy crown at Jesu's feet, 

And live with Him who died for thee. 

The angels veil their dazzled sight, 
And worship low with folded wing. 

Arise ! and bathe thee in the light, 

Where lives and reigns thy heavenly King. 

O Soul ! thou hast but Him below ; 

O Lord ! in heaven I ask but Thee : 
There shall I all Thy glory know, 

And live with Him who died for me ! 






Whispers in the Palms. 147 



THE WANDERER. 

" Is it well with the child ? And she answered, It is well." 
2 Kings iv. 26. 

I HERE is he ? Where the summer buds are springing, 
Down by the rivulet, in childish play ; 
Through the warm air his blithesome voice is singing, 
Waking the echo with his mirthful lay. 

See ! slumber o'er the weary child is creeping, 
Pillowed on his fair arms the flowers among; 

His parted lips still smile, as though in sleeping 
He dreamed of heaven, and heard the angels' song. 

Where is he ? On the rivulet is flowing, 

But the child's little hands are idle now; 
The daisies on the grassy mound are growing, 

And he — that blue-eyed boy — doth sleep below. 

Ah no ! Too fair for earth's most drear embraces, 
The silver cord was loosed — all love was vain, 

And, shaking from his wings the world's dark traces, 
The wandering dove returned to heaven again. 

Where is he now ? The ministering angels near us, 
Encamped around our path, his bliss can tell. 

How is it with the child ? O Saviour, hear its ! 
To our sad hearts He whispers, " It is well !" 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE STAR OF THE DEEP. 

' ' When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through 
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." — Isaiah xliii. 2. 






ORD, when the waves of sorrow rage, 

Oh, save me from despair ; 
And let me, as in sunny ways, 

Still trace Thy goodness there. 
Teach me to feel that Thou art nigh, 

In sickness and in woe ; 
That Thou dost mark each smothered sigh, 

Each hidden grief dost know. 

Thou who didst will my wandering bark 

Amid the rocks to strand, 
Speak to my sinking heart : to me, 

O Saviour, stretch Thy hand. 
There is no hope, no rest, O Lord, 

In this dark world, save Thee, 
Thou Anchor of the tempest-tossed, 

Thou Beacon on life's sea. 

Thou who didst tread the stormy wave, 

When all around was dark, 
Stretch forth Thy hand of tenderness, 

And save my sinking bark. 
Oh, let me hear Thy " Peace, be still," 

My fainting spirit warm ; 
Up, Lord, I perish ! let Thy word 

Still save me in the storm. 



Whispers in the Palms. 149 

Teach me to trust Thee, though the way 

I may not always see, 
And bless the very storms of life 

That bring me nearer Thee. 
Thy promises I hold secure, 

Whatever ill betide ; 
Dark is the wave, but Thou hast said, 

"On to the other side." 



A CHILD'S PRAYER. 

'' Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not ente 
into the kingdom of heaven." — Matt, xviii. 3. 

I SAVIOUR ! hear a little child, 

Who knows not how to pray ; 
On earth Thy face, so meek and mild, 

Was never turned away. 

The children gathered to Thy breast 

Have found a blessed home, 
Where safe from every sin they rest : 

Oh, suffer me to come. 

I ask Thee for a heart to try 

To please Thee day by day ; 
Thy love, to lead me back, when I 

From Thy commandments stray. 

Do Thou, O Lord, my sins forgive, 
The sins that wound Thee sore, 

And teach me every day I live 
To love Thee more and more. 



150 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE MINISTERING SPIRIT. 

'' Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of 
witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily 
beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking 
unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith." — Hebrews xii. 1. 

|PIRIT of my absent one ! 

Absent only for a clay, 
Till my work on earth is done, 

And the vail shall pass away : 
Shall I weep thee, loved one ? No ! 

I remember thou art blest : 
Better far that thou shouldst go 

To thy holier, happier rest. 

Thou, by Christ beloved, redeemed, 

Thou, my dove, that from the ark 
Fluttered forth (an hour it seemed) 

O'er the waters wild and dark, 
Bringing messages of love, 

That our blind eyes would not see ; 
Then thy spirit soared above, 

Where we could not follow thee. 



There thou livest safe from sin, 

Thou whom Jesus died to save ; 
When He smiled and let thee in, 

Glory broke upon the wave ; 
And while gazing on thy track, 

Upraised eyes behold the light 
Gentle radiance flinging back, 

Though it shrouds thee from our sight. 






Whispers in the Palms. 151 

Through the floating clouds I trace 

Visions of thy vesture fair, 
And a smiling seraph face 

'Mid the green palms waving there : 
Branching palms that once were laid 

On the path thy Saviour trod, 
Now re-echo overhead 

With hosannas to our God. 

Though I long to gaze on thee, 

Bright from realms where Christ doth reign, 
Could I bear that face to see ? 

Could I wish thee back again ? 
No, my loved one ! I would choose 

Rather for thy loss to sigh, 
If one glory thou must lose, 

Than behold thee ever nigh. 

Not for me suspend the psalm, 

Not for me lay by the crown ; 
If my prayer could fan thy palm, 

Not for me thy palm lay down. 
Though thy ministry of grace 

This coarse vail of earth may hide, 
Though I cannot see thy face, 

I shall feel thee at my side. 

I shall know that thou art come, 

But to whisper me of God, 
From thy happy spirit-home, 

On the path we might have trod. 
Oh ! thou art not dead to me, 

Only passed the vail within : 
Gone thy Saviour's face to see, 

Sheltered safe from every sin. 



152 Whiskers in the Palms. 

Nearer to His heart I press ; 

As I there in faith abide, 
I shall learn thy happiness, 

I shall praise for all beside. 
Heavenly hosts, a mighty throng, 

Welcome sinners as they come ; 
When they raise the joyful song, 

Spirit blest, wilt thou be dumb ? 

Canst thou hear our sorrow's plaint ? 

Mark our triumphs as we go ? 
Catch the song that sounds so faint 

From our murmuring lips below ? 
Hymns of praise 'mid angels rise, 

And the thought my sorrow calms ; 
High above the sapphire skies 

Sound the whispers in the palms. 

Faint the murmur they may stir, 

Woke by sigh or sobbing breath ; 
Yet the Holy Comforter 

Every tear interpreteth. 
Thou, O Lord, that lookest down 

On our warfare, Thou canst see, 
That by foes encompassed round, 

We have here no stay but Thee. 

Lord, with Thee alone is rest ; 

Wilt Thou in Thy temple dwell, 
Not as some sweet, passing guest, 

But as One beloved well ? 
Bring Thy heaven to my heart, 

And its silent chambers fill ; 
Let all other joys depart, 

So that Thou art with me still. 



Whispers in the Palms. 153 



THE VOICE OF LOVE. 

" We have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them 
reverence : shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of 
spirits, and live?" — Hebrews xii. 9. 

"IjfijggjBlOME thou into the sunlight, child; the pleasant pasture.-, 

Wander the water-course beside ; listen, my loved one — come. " 
The morning shed its rosy rays, and earth chimed forth, ' ' Rejoice, " 
When bounded forth a little child who knew his Father's voice. 

" I come, my Father; yes, I come to do Thy will, to be 
Obedient to Thy voice of love, that bids me follow Thee ; 
I long to see the summer fields, and sing the songs of home;" 
And the glad child warbled as he went, "Dear Father, I am 
come." 

He sat him down beneath a tree, whose golden fruit was fair, 

And many a wayside traveller the young feet guided there. 

He showed the fount that sprang beneath, and parched lips on 

him smiled : 
Men journeyed on, and mutely blessed the Father of the child. 

Weeping, the listening wanderers heard the artless tale he told, 
How once on desert sands he too had wandered from the fold ; 
How, helpless, wounded, and alone, no danger could he stem, 
And the Shepherd's hand that healed his wounds could save and 
succour them. 



154 Whispers i?i the Palms. 

He told them of that land of light, where thousand harps Avere 

strung, 
Where nothing evil enters in, where songs of joy are sung ; 
Where, robed in garments glistening white, the happy children 

dwell. 
But on the noontide floats a voice, the young child knows it well, 



" Come o'er the distant hills with me, home I would lead thee 

now; 
Ungathered leave the fruit, unbind the garlands from thy 

brow : 
Unto thy rest return, my child, for danger lurks around ; 
Thou must not wander far from me, my lost so lately found. " 

" My Father ! no, it cannot be that Thou dost bid me go, 
From these still streams and pasture lands, by paths I do not 

know. 
Let me rest here ; the way is drear ; Thy face I cannot see. " 
" Fear not, O little child, for still thy Father leadeth thee." 

" O Father, let me linger yet, it was so fair awhile." 

The child looked downwards through his tears, and missed his 

Father's smile. 
" Forsake me not ! oh, wilder still the wilderness doth grow !" 
"Child, when I called thee forth to play, how gladly didst 

thou go ! " 

" But is it needful I should pass this gloomy vale along? 
How can my weak arm ever ford the river deep and strong?" 
' ' Look not, my child, upon the wave, nor mark the shadows 

steal ; 
It is enough, O little one, thy Father's arms to feel. 



Whispers in the Palms. 155 

"He leaves thee not, beloved one, He guides thee through the 

gloom; 
Deep calleth unto deep, but still the billows bear thee home. 
No shadows there — young pilgrim, none ! no grief, no sin, no 

pain ; 
And these rough rocks thou climbest now thou shalt not see 

again. " 

The child stretched forth his feeble hands, one upward glance 

he gave ; 
Nor looked upon the gloomy strand, nor wept beside the wave ; 
He listened for his Father's voice amid the waters' roar, 
And on the margin of the stream the child was seen no more. 

But on the river hushed to rest a golden pathway shone, 
As holy feet had left a track the way the child had gone ; 
And songs of sweet solemnity rang softly through the gloom : 
A clear young voice rose o'er the rest, "Dear Father, I am 

come !" 



CALVARY. 



; ' When they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they 
crucified Him." — Luke xxiii. 33. 

BOW me down at Calvary, 

Dark clouds around me rise ; 
I hear a multitude pass by, 
My soul within me dies. 

What cruel hands have twined the thorns 

That press that guiltless brow ? 
Whose voice hath dealt the scoff and scorn ? 

Oh, mourn, my soul ; 'twas thou ! 



Whispers in the Palms. 

I bow me down at Calvary, 

I see those galling bands, 
And with a thrill of agony, 

Behold His pierced hands. 

"My God! my God! oh, why hast Thou 

Forsaken me ? " The cry 
Still through the wide earth echoes now, 

From mournful Calvary. 

I bow me down at Calvary, 

The mighty thunders roll, 
The curse of sin falls heavily 

Upon the sinless soul. 

From the pale lips of faithful Love 

Pardon and peace go forth ; 
My Saviour lifts His gaze above 

The harsh betraying earth. 

Mourn — mourn, my soul ! lo, for thy sin 

The sinless One hath died, 
Pardon and peace for thee to win, 

For thee and all beside ; 

Who, gazing on the Lamb once slain, 

To God in faith draw nigh, 
And, cleansed from every sinful stain, 

Rest upon Calvary. 



Whispers in the Palms. 157 



THE BURDEN-BEARER. 

"I am the door: by Me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall 
go in and out, and find pasture." — John x. 9. 

"Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting 
strength." — Isa. xxvi. 4. 

JAKE thy rest in Jesus ; 

Bring thy weight of sadness ; 
Brightest beams His beauty 

In the darkest days : 
To thine heart rejoicing 

In its first-born gladness, 
Jesus is thy portion ; 

Let Him be thy praise. 

Take thy care to Jesus ; 

Doubt not ! He will heed thee, 
Shield thee from temptation, 

Heal thy burning smart. 
Oft, in tender pity, 

That pierced hand hath freed thee, 
And upheld thee, fainting, 

On His faithful heart. 

Take thy grief to Jesus : 

All the pangs that pain thee, 
All the snares enslaving, 

Here thou mayst confess ; 
In the open Fountain 

Cleanse the sins that stain thee : . 
He who sought thee wandering 

Doth not love thee less. 



158 Whispers in the Palms. 

Live thy life in Jesus ! 

Empty hands, and weakness, 
Sinful sloth, and service, 

Still for Jesus call : 
Go, perplexed and weary, 

And, in lowly meekness, 
With Jehovah- Jesus 

Leave it — leave it all. 

Trust thy heart with Jesus, 

'Tis the same sweet story ; 
Trust it fully, freely, 

And thy care is gone. 
In the Lamb once bleeding 

See the Lord of glory, 
And behold the Word made Man 

Upon the Father's throne. 



THE SOUL'S LONGINGS. 

" I stretch forth my hands unto Thee : my soul thirsteth after Thee, as a 
thirsty land. Hear me speedily, O Lord : my spirit faileth ; hide not Thy 
face from me. Quicken me, O Lord, for Thy name's sake." — Ps. cxlii. 6, 7, 11. 

"That which I see not teach Thou me." — Job xxxiv. 32. 

ll'l^alORb, I fain would learn Thy will, and the world's dark 

Ig.PagN ways forsake : 

I have no strength, and I am blind. Oh, lead me in the path 

I take. 
Faltering falls my feeble step, though I fain would follow Thee ; 
Draw me with the cords of love : what I see not teach Thou me. 

Let Thy Holy Spirit seal upon my soul Thy pledge of love; 
Let me know that I am Thine ; let me all Thy riches prove. 
Saved from sin, oh, let me walk in Thy blest adoption free : 
Tell me, Lord, am I Thy child ? What I see not teach Thou me. 



Whispers i?i the Palms. 159 

'Tis Thy promise, Lord, I plead, for Thy costly work is done; 
Thou for sin of mine wert slain ; hear and save, Thou living One ; 
Cleanse me white as driven snow, though my sins as scarlet be : 
Wondrous depths of priceless love ! What I see not teach Thou 
me. 

Grant Thy Spirit to reveal treasures hidden in Thy Word : 
Shall Thy soldier shrink in fear when he holds Thy well-proved 

sword ? 
Thou wilt guard him in the fight, till his foes before him flee. 
Weak my hand, and faint my heart: what I see not teach Thou me. 

Holy Spirit, haste to shed light upon my struggling soul ! 
Dangers daunt me every step, yet I pant to reach the goal ; 
I am watching for the day, longing, waiting, Christ, for Thee. 
Lord of knowledge, light, and love, what I see not teach Thou me. 

Make me patient, lowly, meek, softly walking in Thy way, 
Heeding when I hear Thee speak, loving, learning, day by day; 
Let me work or suffer, Lord, and adore each wise decree 
Thou hast traced in lines of light : what I see not teach Thou me. 

Perfect me, O love divine ! Hasten Thou, for daylight dies, 
And I watch to catch the dawn breaking in the eastern skies ; 
Midnight hours have darkest deeds, then the day must nearer be ; 
Satan lurks in angel guise : what I see not teach Thou me. 

Thou hast called me from the dead, Thou hast washed me in 

Thy blood, 
Quicken me with heavenly light, guide me, Jesus, through the 

flood; 
Seal and sanctify Thine own, take me home to dwell with Thee, 
There, in realms of fadeless bliss, what I see not teach Thou me. 



i6o 



Whispers in the Palms. 



THE SIN-BEARER. 

' The Lord shut him in." — Gen. vii. 16. 

|F I look within, O Lord, 
I am lost in my despair; 

If I seek for rest around, 
Only sorrow meets me there. 

Wandering feet and faithless heart, 
These are all that I can see ; 

Fix my vagrant gaze above, 
Let me find my rest in Thee. 

O'er the water-floods I go, 
Sheltered in Thy Ark awhile, 

Soon to see the shadows flee 
'Neath the glory of Thy smile. 

One the door — the window one, 
Opening only to the sky ; 

Christ within, and Christ above, 
Christ around eternally. 



Safely o'er the waters wide 
I can sail the world around : 

Jesu's hand hath closed the door, 
And my rest in Him is found. 



Whispers in the Palms. 161 



THE BLESSED DEAD. 

" To this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that He might be 
Lord both of the dead and living." — Rom. xiv. 9, 10. 

J EEPING, we leave our blessed dead, 

And rest upon the Word, 
That, absent from the body, they 
Are present with the Lord. 

Shall spirit sleep ? Shall it lie down 

The deep dark grave within ? 
The only rest the spirit seeks 

Is changeless rest from sin. 

Shall not the soul that sought Him here, 

And loved His will to do, 
Spring forth, rejoicing in its strength 

To serve the Lord anew ? 

Those stammering lips, that weakly strove 

To sing her Saviour's praise, 
Shall they be dumb, when round the throne 

Angels their voices raise ? 

Shall she lie down in dull repose, 
When Christ in Heaven doth live ? 

Severed from her beloved Lord, 
She would but watch and grieve. 

How could she sleep so far from Him, 

That slumbered not before, 
But strove to reach Him in the chains 

The prisoned exile wore ; 



1 62 Whispers in the Palms. 

Longing to put the fetters off. 

And, trusting in His Word, 
Be clothed upon, and rise to meet 

Her long expected Lord ? 

Say, will the friends who side by side 
As heaven-ward pilgrims trod, 

Here one in Christ through weal and woe, 
Be severed when with God ? 

Shall parents who have fondly brought 

Their child to Jesu's feet, 
And walked the self-same path to heaven, 

No more their darling meet ? 

Trust in the Lord, poor weeping one, 

Lift up thy tearful eyes; 
For in thy heavenly home thy loved 

Soon shalt thou recognize. 

So Moses and Elias stood 

On Tabor's sacred height, 
In sweet communion with their Lord, 

Garbed in their heaven-caught light. 

And He, the holy risen One, 

His loved disciples joined, 
While son-owing o'er the sepulchre 

They lately left behind. 

Canst thou not trust that Love to which 

All other love is dim ? 
Seek thou the glory of thy Lord, 

And leave the rest to Him. 






Whispers in the Palms. 163 



THE WHITE-ROBED SAINTS. 

" Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty, they shall behold the land 
that is very far off." — Isaiah xxxiii. 17. 

" He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away 
tears from off all faces." — Isaiah xxv. 8. 

I HO are they whose songs are sounding 
O'er the golden harps above ? 
Hark ! they tell of grace abounding, 
And Jehovah's sovereign love. 

Who are they that keep their station 

Round the great eternal throne ? 
They from earthly tribulation 

To their heavenly rest are gone. 

See their robes of dazzling whiteness, 

Without blemish, spot, or stain ; 
See their crowns that grow in brightness, 

Purchased by the Lamb once slain. 

Never heat shall beat upon them, 
Thirst nor hunger reach them there ; 

He, whose life from death hath won them, 
Bids them now His glory share. 

Feeble hearts are nerved for duty, 

Faltering feet now firmly stand ; 
Palms of heaven's unfading beauty, 

Mark earth's once despised band. 

' Tis the Lamb of God that leads them, 
And they serve Him night and day ; 

By the heavenly fount He feeds them, 
He hath wiped their tears away. 
M 2 



164 Whispers in the Palms. 

Sweet their theme ! 'Tis still, " Salvation 
Unto Christ the Holy One ! " 

And their sighs of tribulation 

Change to songs around the throne. 



THE VIGIL. 



''When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher 
than I."— Psalm lxi. 2. 

AT HER, my cup is full ! 

My trembling soul I raise ; 
Oh, save me in this solemn hour, 

Thy might and love to praise. 

Father, my cup is full ! 

But One hath drunk before, 
And for our sins Thy face was hid, 

When the bitter draught ran o'er. 

Father, my cup is full ! 

But Thou dost bid me drink ; 
I know Thy love the chalice mixed, 

And yet I faint — I shrink. 

Alone He drank the cup, 

The holy sinless One. 
That not one soul on earth again 

Should drain the dregs alone. 

Father, forsake me not ! 

O Christ ! I look to Thee, 
And by Thy midnight agony 

Do Thou remember me. 



Whispers in the Palms. 165 



THE SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL. 

"Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the 1 
Psalm cxlii. 5. 






ORD, Thou art my Shepherd ! 

Every hour I prove 
How Thine arm upholds me 

With Thy faithful love. 

In Thy pleasant pastures 
Thou hast made me lie ; 

Still the crystal waters 
Thou dost lead me by. 

Oft my soul restoring 

When thy love I see, 
In thy paths of mercy 

Gently guiding me. 

Death's dark vale of terror 
Hath by Thee been trod ; 

I will fear no evil 

With Thy staff and rod. 

Thou hast spread a table 

All my foes before, 
And my cup of blessing 

Daily runneth o'er. 

Goodness, Lord, and mercy, 
Mark Thy gracious ways ; 

In Thine house for ever 
Let me sing Thy praise. 



j 66 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE SINLESS HOME. 

" Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
Psalm xxx. 5. 

SlORD, though I weep, my voice I raise; 
But soon the dawn shall rise, 
When I Thy glorious name shall praise, 
No more with streaming eyes, 
Within a sinless home. 

This earthen vessel trembling thrills, 

Nor can Thy love record ; 
Its very depth Thy fulness fills 

With wine Thy hand hath poured, 
Wine — from my sinless home. 

Oh, Thou alone my soul can know, 
To Thee its depths belong ; 

Dry Thou the tear-drops as they flow, 
And let my broken song 
Rise in my sinless home. 

The blossoms seem to bend in prayer, 
When morning breaks anew ; 

And still Thy glory they declare, 
Though heavy with the dew, 
Far from our sinless home. 

The bow of promise in the skies 

Its glorious tribute rears, 
And yet its thousand radiant dyes, 

Inwoven, Lord, from tears, 
Tell of our sinless home. 



Whispers in the Palms. 167 

As Thou dost bid the sunlight shine 

O'er nature's weeping face, 
So do Thou let each tear of mine 

Reflect Thy love and grace, 
On to my sinless home. 

Soon wilt Thou break this prison-cage, 

Where I have lingered long ; 
Then will I sing from age to age 

A joyful, tearless song, 
Safe in my sinless home. 



THE UNSPEAKABLE GIFT. 

" See that ye refuse not Him that speaketh. For if they escaped not who 
refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn 
away from Him that speaketh from heaven." — Heb. xii. 25. 

] REE flows the Fountain : though as scarlet, 

By countless sins, thy soul is dyed, 
They shall be as the snow; though crimson, 
Behold thy Substitute supplied. 

Jesus died. 

Hear, live, arise ! for Christ hath risen ; 

Eat, drink ! for He that hunger gives ; 
Feed on the Living Bread from heaven : 

The feeblest child His strength receives. 
Jesus lives. 

The door of refuge standeth open, 

Still flows for thee life's purple tide ; 
The Lamb of God thy place hath taken : 

Behold His hands. His feet, His side. 

Jesus died. 



Whispers in the Palms. 



EVIL ANGELS. 

"Fear not; for they that be with us are more than they that be with 
them." — 2 Kings vi. 16. 

"They shall fight against thee, and shall not prevail against thee ; for I 
am with thee, saith the Lord, to deliver thee." — Jer. i. 19. 

ITRETCH forth Thy hand, O Lord of hosts. Behold, 
\ Thy people have their holy birthright sold 
For mess of pottage. As of old, arise ! 
Angels of darkness lurk in every guise 
Upon our path, and seek to lure us hence, 
And win from us our bright inheritance. 
In crowded mart, in home's familiar scene, 
Yea, in Thy very temple, Lord, between 
The Saviour and the soul, there oft glide in 
The subtle tempters with their snares of sin. 
In the still chamber, where we weeping spread 
Our grief before Thee, stealthily they tread ; 
We feel the withering shadow of despair, 
And cold distrust comes whispering in our prayer. 
Our way is set with pitfalls. We are weak ; 
But Thou art strong to save. Wilt Thou not speak, 
And cast them forth, as when on earth Thy word 
Bade them depart, and they Thy mandate heard ? 
Open our eyes, O God, that we may see 
Thine own bright angel host, that mightier be 
Than all who fight against us. Though the rage 
Of our great foe doth with Thy people wage 
Unceasing warfare, Lord, we look to Thee, 
The Captain of Thy glorious host to be. 
The distant hills with flaming chariots gleam, 
The darkest valleys with Thy legions teem ; 



Whispers in the Palms. 169 

In crowded street, the vessel, and the mart, 

And home, where oft the unsuspecting heart 

Throws by its armour, still around us stand 

The unseen watchers of Thy radiant band. 

As the bright seraphim that ceaseless guard 

Our forfeit Eden with the flaming sword, 

So turn their swords, so guard tis home again, 

Where Thou, our Saviour and our King, dost reign. 



THE GOOD PHYSICIAN. 

* Lord, help me ! . . . Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, greai 
is thy faith ; be it unto thee even as thou wilt." — Matt. xv. 25, 28. 

I HAT treasures hast Thou, Lord, for them who seek ! 

I Food for the hungry soul ; and for the weak, 
Strength that shall make the Shepherd's simple sling 
Mightier than Giant's spear ; a healing spring 
For every wound ; a balm for every care ; 
Scrip, staff, and sandal — faith, and hope, and prayer. 
We bring to Thee our loved ones : Christ, look Thou, 
As when on earth, on those before Thee now, 
Folded within our hearts ; words fail to tell 
Our deep fond yearning, but Thou knowest well 
All we would ask Thee. Heal them with a word ! 
Sight for our blind ! Life for our dead, O Lord ! 
Oh, gather Thou the wayward wanderer home ! 
Say to the lost one, " Come," and he shall come. 
Thou wouldest none should perish ; but the day 
Is waning fast, and still behold they stray. 
Speak, Lord ! The deaf shall hear Thy blessed voice ; 
Stretch forth Thine hand, our drooping hearts rejoice ! 
Greater than all our sins Thy mercies be : 
Lord, hear our prayer ! We trust our loved to Thee. 



170 Whispers in the Palms. 



"GO IN PEACE." 

'Neither do I condemn thee : go, and sin no more." — John \ 

jflHRIST hath said He will receive me : 
Sure the message soundeth sweet ; 

I, a sinner, Lord, believe Thee, 
Lo ! I cast me at Thy feet : 

Bid my feeble faith increase, 

I await Thy "Go in peace." 

I no costly unguents offer ; 

What have I wherewith to part ? 
Nothing but the woes I suffer, 

And a bruised and broken heart : 
Not the tears that dew Thy feet 
Make me for Thy mercy meet. 

All I have — my sins — I lay them 
At the cross where Thou hast died ; 

Nor with frail excuse array them ; 
They my Christ have crucified ! 

Sins that long Thy love withstood, 

Blot them, Saviour, with Thy blood. 

"Go in peace." Oh, who shall sunder 
My glad heart from that behest ? 

Let the cold world scoff and wonder 
That the scorned is loved and blest : 

Nought my weary soul alarms, 

It is safe in Jesu's arms. 



Whispers in the Palms. 171 

He hath snatched me from my prison ; 

Shall I mourning pass my days ? 
Nay, I know that Christ is risen, 

And my tongue shall tell His praise : 
He hath wiped my streaming eyes, 
By His life I too shall rise. 

He the wolf-torn lamb hath taken 

From the deep pit dark and drear ; 
Father — mother — hath forsaken, 

But the Shepherd still was near; 
And He cleansed the stained fleece, 
Yea, He bade me " Go in peace." 

Peace ! Thy peace ! the full salvation 

That Thy ransomed ones receive ; 
Peace amid earth's tribulation, 

Rest that Thou alone canst give : 
Mine inheritance I see, 
Peace on earth, and heaven with Thee. 

Thou Redeemer, Father, Spirit, 

Let me 'neath Thy wings abide, 
And Thy promised grace inherit, 

Gazing on Thy bleeding side : 
Sin and woe for me shall cease, 
Thou hast bade me " Go in peace." 



i?a Whispers in the Palms. 



THE FAITHFUL MESSENGER. 

" Now our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and God, even our Father, which 
hath loved us, and hath given us everlasting consolation and good hope 
through grace, comfort your hearts, and stablish you in every good word 
and work." — 2 Thess. ii. 16, 17. 

jllRD up thy loins, be shod with peace, nor let thy light 
be dim ; 

Go forth, God's messenger of love, and speak, oh, speak of Him ! 
Safe 'neath the shelter of the cross, whatever grief betide, 
Tell of the sinless Lamb of God thy sin hath crucified. 



Oh ! make us meek and patient, Lord, while looking up to Thee ; 
Thy guiding hand we would not miss, whate'er Thy will may be. 
Still make Thy faithfulness our theme, our sweetest song Thy 

name ; 
We know, while all is changing here, that Jesus is the same. 

So draw us as we journey on, sweet Saviour, to Thy breast, 
Seeking Thy counsel on our way, sharing Thy heavenly rest. 
Thus shall we climb the mountain path, and meet the swelling 

flood ; 
Loved with an everlasting love, washed in Thy precious blood. 

We know we have a dwelling-place that daily nearer grows, 
We have a Friend awaiting us whose love no mortal knows, 
A blest abiding Comforter, a Father very near : 
All things are His, all things are ours — the feeblest need not fear. 



WJiispers in the Palms. 173 

We fear not : all shall work for good ; yea, loss, and tears, and 

death : 
Cold falls the snow upon the sod, and flowers lie hid beneath. 
The fadeless dawn shall break, and then what meetings will 

there be ! 
What singing of the summer birds ! what songs for thee and me ! 



Christ keeps thee, thou joint-heir with Him : — glad be thy song 

of praise. 
Yea, though He lead thee to the fight, and give thee darksome 

days, 
He leaves thee not, nor loves thee less; our Rock unshaken 

stands : 
Broken for thee His heart, thy name is graven on His hands. 



Oh ! let salvation's joyful sound 'mid all thy trials flow ; 
Tell of that pleasant path of peace the ransomed people know ; 
Gird up thy loins, watch for the day, nor let thy light be dim ; 
Go forth, God's messenger of love, and speak, oh, speak for 
Him! 




174 Whispers in the Palms. 



THE WILDERNESS. 

" I am not alone, because the Father is with me." — John xvi. 32. 
" Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." 

Matt, xxviii. 20. 
"Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak 
comfortably unto her." — Hosea ii. 14. 

HAVE been in the wilderness, but it was sweet to be 
E'en in a desert land, O Lord, when there allured by 
Thee. 

Shadows obscured my far-off home, the road was dark and chill ; 

Thy voice broke on my solitude, " Lo, I am with thee still." 



Oh ! didst Thou to the wilderness my faithless footsteps guide, 
To teach me in Thy presence, Lord, I nothing lack beside ? 
Though each new day its danger brings, new strength Thy love 

doth lend, 
' ' Lo, I am with thee always, child ; yea, even to the end. " 

Unto "the end!" Oh, promise sweet! It is enough for me; 
Where'er my pilgrim footsteps tread, there will my Saviour be. 
Oh, welcome then the wilderness ! Christ all its paths hath 

known ; 
His little ones He will not leave to tread those paths alone. 






Whispers in the Palms. 



SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 

" Because Thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise Thee.* 
Psalm lxiii. 3. 

I AD heart, hast thou no joys to number ? 

No blessed hope thy song to raise, 
To warn the souls who round thee slumber ? 
Is Christ thy portion ? Rise and praise ! 

Praise from the captive freed is meet ; 

Praise to thy heavenward path belongs ; 
And midnight music sounds most sweet, 

When God, thy Maker, giveth songs. 

Why on thy faith so feeble dwelling ? 

Why weep thy hope that waxes dim ? 
Praise for His love thy bosom swelling, 

Shall bring thee, mourner, nearer Him. 

Fear not the foes that gather round thee : 
Jehovah's Shepherd holds thee fast ; 

And He who in the desert found thee 
Will bring thee to thy rest at last. 

So let thy sadness end in praising : 

Too long thy harp hath silent lain ; 
Sing ! on thy Lord's perfection gazing : 

The praise of one makes joy for twain. 



176 Whispers in the Palms. 



SUBMISSION. 

" Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." — 2 Cor. iv. 17. 

IORD, I strive to murmur not ; 
Thou, I know, hast fixed my lot, 

But my foolish heart will moan. 
Pardon Thou these earth-born tears, 
Let these few fast fleeting years 
Be Thine alone. 

Father, if it be Thy will, 
Let the cup be bitter still, 

If it keep me at Thy feet. 
Only let me feel a ray 
Of Thy presence on my way, 

And all is sweet. 

Feeble praises, Lord, I bring, 
Yet Thy mercies I will sing, 

Great and manifest to me : 
Then my sorrows, numbered up, 
Seem but blessings in the cup 

Bestowed bv Thee. 



Whispers in the Palms. 177 



"A REFUGE FROM THE STORM." 

'■ Through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins : and by 
Him all that believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not 
be justified by the law of Moses." — Acts xiii. 38, 39. 

SflHRIST the Lord hath risen! 
He who died to save thee ; 
Leave thy sin's dark prison, 
Take the life He gave thee. 

Hear, believe, and live : 

Hark ! He speaks from heaven, 

" Freely I forgive : " 
Freely be forgiven. 

" Sin's black roll is long," 

Jesu's blood hath paid it ; 
And His love, how strong ! 

He Himself hath said it 

"Whosoe'er" ye be, 
Come, and doubt Him never ; 

And your ransom see 
Paid, and that for ever. 

Canst thou give Him aught 

But thy sin and sorrow ? 
See, thy robe is wrought : 

Wait not for to-morrow. 

N 



Whispers in the Palms. 

Give Him all thy past ; 

Canst thou make it better ? 
From the first to last* 

Thou must be love's debtor. 

All thy future leave ; 

Bring thy hopes that languish, 
Bring the sins that grieve, 

And thy hoard of anguish. 

Come, thou longing soul, 
Jesus will not chide thee ; 

He hath made thee whole, 
In His robe He'll hide thee. 

Take thy happy rest ; 

He that rest hath given : 
Leaning on His breast, 

Learn the joys of heaven. 




London: Morgan and Chase, 38, Ludgate Hill. 



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AUTHOR OF 

"WHISPERS IN THE PALMS." 



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